It's All Coming Back to Me Now
by deepfriedcake
Summary: Post-Partings. Lorelai awakes to the fact that her life has changed and she's no longer the woman she used to be. One step at time, she tries to fight her way back to the Lorelai she's meant to be.
1. Rescue

**New Author's Note**: I'm going to make more of an effort to add some of my older stories to my collection here. Some of these are much longer, and definitely much more filled with angst. In most cases I'm going to go ahead and leave the original Author's Notes at the beginning of each story or each chapter, just so you can see what what was going on in my head at the time. The little medical prologue at the beginning of each of the four chapters of this story confused some readers when this story was first published. It was just a fanciful way for me to address the fact that Lorelai was hurt and broken and was going to have to go through different stages of 'treatment' to become healed again. I'd love to hear any and all thoughts about this one. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry ― but this is another Post-Partings, 'let's fix Season 7' story. I've been working on a couple of other things while I've been sitting on this one, and I think I finally got it to the point that I might as well release it. When Oh-No reviewed my "Alone" story, she made a comment about wishing she could see Lorelai get her own balance back, separate from any help from Luke. I'd been contemplating a similar idea, and this story was born from that. I don't think it's going to be particularly sad. It's just trying to get Lorelai back to the Lorelai we loved, which was a strong woman, even though she's on her own. Also, I'm kind of sorry about the title, but once it popped into my head it stuck ― kind of like the song itself, I guess. At least it should make Michel happy.

* * *

_It happens on medical dramas all the time._

_A beautiful woman lays on a gurney in an emergency room. She's gravely injured. Her heart has stopped beating._

_A grizzled doctor grabs a huge syringe. Or maybe it's George Clooney. Or a young, unsure intern who nobody expects to have the nerve to come to the rescue. The doctor grabs the syringe, brings it up high over his head, and then plunges it down into the patient's heart._

_The woman ― all but dead, seconds ago ― gasps and opens her eyes, color returning to her face._

_The old doctor, or the sexy resident, or the clumsy intern walks over to the woman's family._

_"It's OK," he says, reassuringly. "She's going to make it. She's back now."_

* * *

One moment Lorelai was asleep. The next she was sitting up straight in the middle of her too-big bed, gasping, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it was bouncing between her ribs.

She didn't know what had awakened her so abruptly. She put a hand over her thumping heart and held her breath, listening hard for noises coming from downstairs, but all was quiet. No one was making mac'n'cheese in the kitchen. No intruder was stealing her priceless collection of Charlie's Angels plates. Paul Anka's toenails weren't skittering up and down the steps.

Still feeling shaken, she scooted to the edge of the bed. She went to the door, opened it, and listened intently again. She went to the window and looked out onto the peaceful night.

And it was there, while she gazed out onto the chuppah that she now understood was never going to have a use, that she realized her head was clear. As clear as the moonlight glinting off the fine sheen of sealer on Gilbert the Goat. For so long her thoughts had been fuzzy, as if the TV in her brain had those old-fashioned rabbit-eared antennas and they hadn't been turned properly to get reception. She'd watched her life roll by through a filter of static and confusion. She'd felt like she'd been on a diet of cold medication that had left her too dull and zoned-out to actively participate in her own life.

But that was gone now. All of the fuzziness that had cradled her against what had happened was gone. The tiredness that had coated her brain for weeks, allowing her to sleep like the dead, had retreated.

Suddenly she was watching herself with the clarity of an IMAX film. She heard, with agonizing shrillness, the things she had said. She saw, with heart-rending pain, the things she had done.

And jabbing into her, over and over, were tiny little pitchforks of shame and regret, poking her with the knowledge of the things she had not said and the things she had not done.

"I'm not that girl," she protested feebly to herself, so ashamed that she didn't think she could even draw another breath. She could feel her cheeks flaming in the dark. She was surprised she wasn't glowing.

But then her shoulders straightened and her spine clicked into place. "I am _not_ that girl," she said with quiet determination.

She looked around the room that she hadn't truly registered in months. She grabbed the easy chair from under the lamp in the corner and by planting her feet every yard or so, managed to drag it over in front of the window.

She sat there, watching the windbreak of trees that separated her property from the Browning's next door. She watched the moonlight filter through the branches until it disappeared as morning approached. She watched the early morning rays from the sun play with the mist rising up from the grass.

She didn't know who the imposter had been who had been living in her body for the past year. But _she_ was Lorelai Gilmore. And Lorelai Gilmore faced her messes and fought for her happiness.

She was alive again. And she was going to make this right.

* * *

She was sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in her hands, when Rory opened her bedroom door.

Rory yawned and stretched, one of the old 'rory's going to yale' shirts serving as a pajama top. "I thought I smelled ―" she started, but broke off, shocked to see a pan of cinnamon rolls actually sitting on their kitchen table.

"They're just from a can." Lorelai felt the need have full disclosure on all of her shortcomings on this particular morning. "They're not even the good ones in the can. They're the cheap off-brand ones Taylor stocks in his freezer case. And the coffee's nothing special. But it's strong."

"That's totally acceptable to me. I'm not a breakfast pastry snob." Rory poured herself a cup and then sat down at the table. Lorelai helped her pull one of the rolls from the pan.

Lorelai watched her daughter tear into the roll. "It's time for me to 'fess up. Bare my soul. Come clean about all transgressions." She tried to sound flippant; tried to sound like she hadn't been up for half the night, deciding on how to best redeem her life.

"OK," Rory said, unconcerned. She was used to hearing grand pronouncements from her mother. She casually swiped her finger through the icing that had run to the bottom of the pan.

Lorelai gripped the coffee mug harder. She watched as the icing dripped off of Rory's finger before she could raise it to her mouth.

"I need to apologize to you." The words were wrenched out of her.

Rory stopped chewing. She stared at her mother, apparently picking up on the fact that this wasn't a normal conversation. "Why?" she asked, her mouth full.

"I …" This was so much harder than she'd expected. It wouldn't have surprised her to see shards of porcelain explode across the table, so tightly was she griping the mug. She drew in one more deep breath. If she couldn't even talk to Rory about this, what hope was there that she could face anyone else?

"I altered our lives, Rory." Her voice came out deep and low, as though she had to pull the words from out of the very depths of her soul. The flippancy was gone. "I didn't talk to you first. I didn't even give you a hint that I was on the verge of causing an upheaval. I just … acted. I didn't think. I didn't think about what would come after." She felt like her arms were trembling and her shoulders were shaking. "I didn't even think about you." That awful admission brought her voice down to an ashamed whisper.

Rory put down the sticky roll. She wiped her fingers nervously on a napkin, carefully not looking at Lorelai. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Lorelai insisted. "Can you imagine the lecture I would have loosed on you if you would have pulled something like this?"

Rory shook her head. She gave her mother a tight smile before turning her attention to the roll in front of her. As she picked it apart, she said, "I _have_ pulled stuff like that, and we both know it."

"You were 19, Rory. 20. I'm 38. And most importantly, I'm the Mom. I don't get to act like an idiot, not when it involves you, too. It was unbelievably awful of me to turn our lives upside down and not even give you a warning."

The roll got pulled into smaller and smaller pieces. "Mom," Rory said, discomfort dripping off of her.

Lorelai sat down the coffee mug and clung to the table, knowing she was going to need something stronger to hang on to in order to get through the next part of her confession. "I hurt Luke." The trembling from her arms had progressed internally, and everything inside of her chest and abdomen was quivering. "I hurt Luke," she repeated, for some reason needing to feel the pain from those words again. "You and Luke have always been close. You've always had your own relationship with him, and I messed that up. And I did it without even giving you a hint of what was coming."

Rory sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. She swung her head away, so Lorelai couldn't see her face.

"And then I went to your Dad," Lorelai continued, her voice getting clearer and stronger. "The worst possible choice I could have made that night, and I knew it. I went to him knowing it was going to destroy everything, and I did it without thinking even once what it would do to you."

Rory's eyes flashed as she turned back to Lorelai. "You are not responsible for what you did that night!"

"Yes, I am," Lorelai disputed. "No one forced me to do what I did. I wasn't insane. I wasn't drunk. There's no excuse for what I did."

"He _hurt_ you!" Rory cried out, nearly choking on her indignation.

Lorelai bit her lip. "Yeah, he did. But that's still no reason for me to blow up our lives."

Rory's hand smacked the table, still fuming. "Dad should have ―"

Lorelai swiftly put her hand over Rory's. "Dad did exactly what I was counting on him to do. I went to him for a reason. Once I stepped through his door, I knew everything between me and Luke was over, and that's what I needed at that moment. You can't blame Dad. I'm just so sorry, Rory, that I conveniently forgot that he was your Dad. I forgot that whatever happened between Chris and me was going to spill down over you, too. The three of us have always had such a muddied relationship, and I made it a thousand times worse by going to him that night. I'm sorry. You can't believe how sorry I am."

She wanted to cry. She really wanted to cry. But she didn't. She held her daughter's hand and looked her in the eyes. She kept her mouth and her resolve firm.

Rory took a shaky breath. "So you blew everything up. What happens next?"

"Somehow I need to find all the pieces and put them together again. I know things won't ever be the same. I know I'll never be able to find some of the pieces. I did such a good job of blowing them to smithereens, they're too tiny to ever find again. But I have to try. I hurt too many good people to not try." She felt tired already, just thinking about the impossible tasks lined up ahead of her.

Rory bent her head over the table, her dark hair swinging down and blocking her face for a moment. When she looked back up, she put her hand over her mother's.

"I'm not mad at you, Mom. I hate what happened. I hate what you did. But I also hate what Luke did. I hate that he pushed us out."

"He didn't push you out," she argued.

Rory rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I understand what you're saying, that you're responsible for what you did. But I still don't think you're completely at fault for what happened. It's like what Grandpa is always talking about in insurance, how sometimes both parties are liable for whatever damage has occurred. You own some of the blame, but so does Luke. So does Dad, for that matter."

"Rory ―"

"No, you're not changing my mind." Rory got up and gave her a firm hug. It was a little sticky, but firm and warm. "I love you, no matter how many times you steal a boat and drop out of school."

The tears were really trying to force their way out. "Thanks, Sweets," she choked out.

"I learned from the best," Rory said airily, standing back up straight. She looked at her mother squarely. "You seem different. You seem…well, normal again. Does that make sense?"

"I feel…different," Lorelai said hesitantly, trying to find the right words. "Actually, that's not true. I feel the way I used to, back in once upon a time." She traced over the edge of the old tabletop, trying to remember the last time she felt normal. "When you left me and went to your grandparents ―"

Rory winced as she sat back down.

"― it was like a switch got flipped off inside of me," Lorelai hurried on. "It was like I was afraid to really live without you. I was just starting to feel my way again when I found out that Luke had hidden all of the April stuff from me, and I hit the pause button again. I think I forgot how I was supposed to be. I think I forgot that I was strong enough to handle this stuff."

"But you're better now?" Rory asked, worry creasing her brow.

Lorelai took an inventory of her inner self. "I think I am. Or at least, I'm going to be."

Lorelai took a sip of coffee, while Rory licked at the icing again. They both took a moment, judging if there was more to say.

"I've always tried to be a good example for you, Rory," Lorelai broke the silence, trying to find her way to the wisdom she hoped to impart to her daughter. "And if I wasn't a good example, if I screwed up, I wanted you to know that, too, so that you could see what worked and what didn't. I want you to know that the way I acted with Luke was wrong. I was wrong to sit there silently, in misery, and let him run the show. I was wrong in the way I finally confronted him. I was wrong in the way I ended things. I am not that woman. I want you to know that I expect myself to be better than that. I expect _you_ to be better than that."

Rory's big blue eyes met hers from under the dark fringe of her bangs. "You don't have to worry about that. For all my life you've taught me how to be the best Lorelai Gilmore that I can possibly be."

Lorelai's throat closed up and she watched as Rory's lips trembled as she forced them into a smile. Their hands met in a comforting squeeze across the table.

Rory gave her head a little shake and chuckled, trying to dispel their seriousness. With a watery smile she pushed the pan towards her mother. "Cinnamon roll?" She shrugged. "They're really not half bad, even if they are just from a can."

Sudden hunger tore through Lorelai. She smiled; a real smile. "Gimme," she said, and reached for the roll in the middle of the pan.

* * *

"Oooh!" Sookie squealed, as Lorelai snuck up behind her and wrapped her arms around her. "You scared me half to death! That's a dangerous thing to do with a cook holding a knife, you know!"

"I know," Lorelai agreed, rubbing her cheek against the bright red bandana covering Sookie's head. "Could you come take a walk with me for a couple of minutes?"

Sookie turned her face enough to see the serious look on Lorelai's. "Sure," she said, trying to sound agreeable, but Lorelai could hear the underlying apprehension.

"Don't let the potatoes burn!" she warned Manny. She threw out a couple more reminders in Spanish as they walked through the back door.

They chatted a little bit about problems with linen delivery and the odd noises heard from the occupants of Room 11 over the weekend. They strolled around the barn and ended up leaning against the fence, watching Desdemona daintily nibbling on the grass growing up around the posts.

"So, what's shakin', bacon?" Sookie asked. Then she giggled. "That's Davey's favorite saying right now. Hear that about a million times a day. I don't know why he loves saying it so much."

"Maybe he likes bacon," Lorelai murmured. She couldn't keep from rubbing her hands together as she tried to contain her nerves.

"Lorelai." Sookie looked sad as she scrutinized her friend. "Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?"

Lorelai blew out a breath. "I owe you an apology."

Sookie frowned. "Why? What did you do?"

"It's more…what I didn't do."

The frown deepened. "What?"

"You're my best friend, Sook. You're my business partner. I trust you with my money; with my kid. But I didn't trust you enough to tell you when my life was going to hell."

Sookie shifted her eyes away, clearly uncomfortable. "You didn't need to tell me. I mean, I could see it, you know?"

Lorelai slowly shook her head as she draped her arms over the fence. "It occurs to me that I did the same thing to you that Luke did to me. I shut you out. You've always been such a huge part of my life, but I just sidelined you, as if you didn't matter."

Sookie pulled the bandanna off and rubbed it slowly between her fingers. "But that's kind of the definition of being a friend, isn't it? You stand by, in case you're needed. I was always ready to listen, if you wanted to tell me. But I never thought you had to."

"It's more than that. I neglected you as a friend, but we're in this business together, and I let you down there, too. I haven't really been here for months. My head's been floating off in my own personal soap opera. None of it's been fair to you, Sookie."

"You've worked harder than anybody to get this place up and running," Sookie disputed loyally. "It's OK that you needed some lost time. We all know what to do now, anyway."

"Lost time," Lorelai muttered, a little bitterly, even though she tried to smile. "That's the truth, though, isn't it? I've been using lost time, even though I've been here every day. You, and Michel, and everyone else have had to pick up the slack. Because of me."

"You had a major upheaval in your life. We all understand. You were allowed."

"A major upheaval," Lorelai mocked. "A major upheaval of my own making."

"I wouldn't say that," Sookie interjected.

"I would." Lorelai looked down at the dirt at her feet for a moment. "That goes back to the friendship thing again. Why didn't I come to you and confess how awful things really were between me and Luke? Why didn't I pour out everything to you the way I always used to? Why didn't I try to talk things over with you?"

"Because you were scared," Sookie said softly.

Lorelai sucked in a sharp breath. "Yeah."

"Because you were afraid I'd agree with you," Sookie continued. "You were afraid that I'd say what Luke was doing was crappy. And you weren't ready to deal with that opinion. You were afraid that if I said that, you'd have to do something about it."

"So smart," Lorelai said, trying not to sound mournful.

"I have my moments," Sookie agreed somberly.

"I should have talked to you." Lorelai kept her focus straight ahead. "I should have kicked down your door that night and cried on your shoulder. I should have told you everything. You never would have let me go to Boston."

Sookie chewed on her lips for a moment as she turned and gazed at the barn. She sighed deeply and shoved the bandanna into the pocket of her chef's jacket as she took the two steps needed to bring her beside her friend. She slipped an arm around her waist.

"I wouldn't have stopped you. If you really thought going there was what you should do, I wouldn't have stood in your way, but I would have let you know that I disagreed. I would have listened. I would have let you get it all out. I would have let you cry on my shoulder." She gave Lorelai a little squeeze. "That will never change. I'm here anytime you need me."

"Man." Lorelai tried to laugh, but she had to quickly swipe a finger under her eye. "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not." Sookie tried to look serious. "Ooh! Maybe I need a raise! After all, I have been running this place practically single-handedly."

Lorelai took a moment to look over the gentle horse eying them with curiosity. Desdemona, and the stables, and the beautifully landscaped grounds of the Dragonfly wouldn't be here if she hadn't fought to make them happen. The sunshine glinted off of Sookie's bright hair, and her heart thumped in gratitude that such a good friend still stood beside her. She felt lighter and happier than she had in months.

"Can I pay you in bacon?" she suggested. That's what the old Lorelai would have said, jokingly.

Sookie giggled. "That would be Davey's dream come true."

"Well, then, I guess I need to go call our meat supplier." She swallowed hard. "Thanks, Sook."

"Anytime," Sookie told her gently.

Together the two friends leaned on the fence and took turns rubbing Desdemona's velvety nose.

* * *

Later that day Lorelai tried to talk to Michel, to offer him an apology about her behavior as well, but Michel being Michel, he brushed her off, pretending to be bored. When she gathered the Dragonfly staff together, to face them all and go over her shortcomings as the boss and promising to be better in the future, she couldn't help but notice that Michel stood right next to her, glaring at anyone who didn't seem to be paying enough attention.

Throughout the next week, Lorelai took time to track down anyone she thought she'd wronged while her relationship with Luke had imploded.

She went to both Miss Patty and Babette, apologizing for putting them in awkward spots with Luke that week before the blow-up. She admitted how ashamed she was of her actions, and said she understood if they couldn't look at her now and see the Lorelai she used to be. But both forgave her on the spot, showering her with unconditional love and sympathy that came from their own life experiences.

"We're just glad to have ya back, Doll," Babette told her earnestly.

She apologized to Taylor for ignoring town events. She went to the people she knew had been on the street that night and had witnessed the awful scene first-hand, apologizing sincerely for making them a party to her meltdown.

Finally, with grim resolve, she drove to Hartford. She sat quietly in her parents' living room and told them how sincerely she regretted hiding the truth from them about how much her relationship with Luke had deteriorated. She told them how awful she'd felt. She told them how sorry she was that they'd wasted their time looking for a home that she knew wasn't going to be used.

The room was silent after her long, rambling admission.

"Well, that's all past now," her father said gruffly, heading for the drink cart. "Best forgotten."

"I know you're still mourning this, Lorelai," her mother said, "but it will get better. Why don't I send over my decorator? New drapes will change your outlook on everything."

Lorelai even thought about going over to see Anna again, to apologize for her unwanted intrusion into her life.

_No,_ she thought. _No, I'm not apologizing for that. That's the one thing I did right. That's the one thing that felt like me._

Slowly she began to notice that she was back to actually living in Stars Hollow again. People looked her in the eye. They waved and called out greetings. They offered bits of gossip. They asked her opinion. It still wasn't quite the old 'normal,' but it was getting closer.

She walked down the streets now with her head up and her eyes clear. Unfortunately she'd learned that the cost of all of this honesty and self-awareness meant living with the awful ache in her chest.

But then she remembered all of the months she hadn't felt anything.

At least she knew now that living with pain was still better than living with nothing at all.

* * *

She watched about a dozen emotions flit across his face as he opened the door. No wonder she'd always been drawn to him. He didn't attempt to hide anything from her.

"Lorelai?" He'd gone from stunned surprise to irritation, toyed with nervousness, tried to be coolly aloof, and now he was grinning, just happy to see her. "This is great! Come on in!"

"Hi, Chris," she said, keeping her voice as neutral as she could. He stepped back from the door and she stepped across the threshold with more ease than she would have thought possible. She'd been afraid that her knees would buckle beneath her, but apparently the stress of worrying about the words she was going to deliver made it possible to ignore the physical part of what she was actually doing.

He closed the door, that happy-puppy look still on his face. "You should have called, Lor. I would have made arrangements for the nanny to stay, and we could have gone out! Man, it's great to see you!"

Her eyes grazed the side of his face. She couldn't really look at him. She detested the feel of the sickly smile she had taped to her mouth.

He put his hands on his hips. "Sit down," he said, trying to be hospitable, but his voice was laced with caution. "What do you want to drink?"

"That's OK. I'm not ―" Her gaze went to the streetlights starting to glow outside his apartment window. "I'm not going to be here that long."

His hands crossed over his chest. The happy-puppy look faded as his face hardened. "I've been trying to connect with you for weeks. I've been worried to death about you, Lor. All those calls, and you wouldn't say more than ten words to me. Rory told me to leave you alone, so I did. And now you finally show up here and you say you're not staying? What the hell's the deal?"

She tore her eyes away from the window and made herself look at him. He deserved to have her at least look at him. She forced air down into her chest.

"I'm here to apologize to you." Now her knees decided to wobble.

"What?" His face went sweet and goofy, the look that had slain her since she was 14 years old. "You've got nothing to apologize for," he insisted, his voice warm.

"No, Chris, I..." She shook her head a few times. Gulped. Wrapped her fingers around the leather purse straps looped over her shoulder for strength. "I used you. I totally used you. And I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry."

He laughed. "You're being silly. There's no way I'd ever consider what happened as me being used," he teased, and took a step towards her. She instantly took a step back and he stopped, a fleeting look of concern crossing his face. "You're not serious?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Totally, totally serious," she nodded. "I used you. I used you to put an end to the mess I had with Luke. And that ―" she had to stop again, had to tug on her purse straps again, " ― used up our friendship."

He was still trying to smile but she could tell that it was beginning to sink in. "You're scaring me here, Lor," he said, trying to chuckle. "You're freaking out over nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. It was huge. It was monstrous. It ruined everything between me and Luke. It ruined everything between you and me. I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so, so sorry."

"Lor, come on!" He was starting to sound a little angry. "You don't mean that. You're just doing some drama queen routine."

"I was hurting so bad that night. It was killing me ― You had to see that it was killing me. I didn't stop to think because I just wanted it to stop. I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't think about what would happen with us. I didn't even think as far as the next day. What I did was so awful, Chris, to both of you. But what I did, I did. I can't take it back now. I have to live with it." She looked at him, desperately, the words tumbling out.

"Of course you do," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis. "And I can even feel a little sorry for Luke, but the guy was an idiot for letting you go. He lost you, which was what he deserved. But that has nothing to do with us!"

"That's what I'm trying to make clear here. There is no 'us' anymore, because of what I did with you that night. Can't you understand? I cheated on Luke with you! Now when I think of you or see you or hear your name, that's all I can remember! It makes me sick, can you understand that? Right now, standing here, I'm not thinking about having Rory or the first time we danced together or riding on your motorcycle! All I can remember is that I used you and it ended up hurting Luke! It kills me, do you get it?"

His mouth was compressed into a thin, tight line. "There's always going to be an 'us.'"

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them she was calmer. "I hurt all of us," she said softly. "I didn't see the big picture at all. That's why I'm here to apologize. All of the years we've been friends, or lovers, or one of the most important people in each others lives ― It's gone, Chris. I ruined it. Our one stupid night wiped out all of our years of friendship."

"That's not true," he said flatly. "I don't see it that way at all."

"Well, unfortunately, I do." She squared up her shoulders as she looked at him plainly. "That's why I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head in disgust. "So have you apologized to _him_ yet?" he sneered.

"Not yet," she said, inching towards the door.

His mouth dropped open in incredulity. "You're going _back_ to him?"

"There's no going back." She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "The second I came here that night, I knew he'd never take me back."

"But yet you still love him?" His voice was mocking.

"Yeah." She wanted to cry, so she laughed instead. "I'm pretty screwed, huh?"

She started to open the door but he was beside her in two long strides, his hand pushing the door back closed. "Look, I'm sorry you feel bad about it, but what happened, it doesn't change anything between us, don't you see that? We're still the same!"

She looked at him, so very sad. "It changed me."

"Lorelai ―" he began, petulantly.

"There's probably no reason for G.G. to remember me," she broke in, wanting to wrap this up now and get out of his apartment, "but would you apologize to her for me sometime, too? Tell her I'm so sorry she saw me that morning. Tell her I'm so sorry that I tried to mess up her life, too."

"You're being ridiculous."

She stared at the grain pattern in the dark mahogany door. "I'm being responsible," she told him. "There's not much I can do about the huge mistake I made except apologize. So that's what I'm doing. I'm sorry, and I hope one day you can forgive me." Her eyes flickered over to his face, and she saw that he was still glaring at her in a mix of anger and skepticism. "I'm sorry," she said again, and walked out the door.

She kept her shoulders straight as she walked down the hall and took the elevator to the lobby. She crossed the entry quickly and bolted outside. She didn't start to shake until she turned the key in the Jeep and had pulled out into traffic.

About an hour outside of Boston, it hit her that Chris had one thing in common with Luke, after all. He hadn't come after her, either.

* * *

The sun was low enough in the sky that the alley behind the diner was shot through with shadows. If she stood up, one last ray was positioned to hit her right in the eye, so she sat instead on the steps to the back door.

In her hands she clutched a brushed aluminum travel mug, imprinted with her father's company name and contact information. Sipping at the coffee in it gave her something to do, something to think about instead of where she was and what she was waiting to do.

Caesar probably would have given her some coffee to fill it, if she'd been brave enough to step inside. But she wasn't. Not yet. It was all she could do tonight to lurk in the shadows of the alley and wait for him to return.

She watched the dust float through the last bit of sunshine. She watched a slight breeze blow through, making a few tall weeds shiver. But she didn't rehearse. She didn't list in her head the points she was hoping to make. She just waited.

It might have been 10 minutes later when her ears picked up the sound of his truck. The gravel crunched as he turned into the end of the alley. She saw the look on his face as he registered her presence. She saw the way he shut down.

The motor of the truck pinged and knocked as it cooled. Dust that had been stirred up by the tires settled back onto the ground. Luke stared straight ahead, his hands still locked on the wheel.

She stood up slowly, taking a moment to wipe off the seat of her cut-offs. She couldn't actually feel her feet as she made her way to the driver's side of the truck, but she knew what she had to do. She'd gone through it so many times in her mind that her body was automatically putting her through the paces now.

She looked through the open window at the man she still loved so much. His profile punched her in the heart, and the rough whiskers on his cheeks made her feel like it was scratched and bleeding.

"Hi," she said. She'd intended to add his name, to say 'Hi, Luke,' but that was too much. She surely wasn't expected to do that.

He was still staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, so she launched into some small talk. "It's Tuesday night, so I figured you'd be taking April home. How is she? Is she having a good summer?"

He gave no indication that he'd even heard her, so she rambled on, pretending that he'd answered her. "Is her swim team having a good season? I know she was really looking forward to that. She and her friends were talking about it that night. At her birthday party. They were..."

She paused again, taking a breath and trying to recover. She knew he wouldn't be happy to see her, but the totality of his ignoring her was starting to chip away at bravery she'd slathered on. She needed to do this now, before she turned and ran.

"Listen, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here." Her nerves almost made her giggle, as she heard that piece of ridiculousness come out of her mouth. To her surprise, he turned and looked at her. Disgust layered over his mouth. Something that looked like hate poured out of his eyes.

"Yeah," she breathed, clutching at the truck door with her free hand, trying not to let that look knock her down. "I'm here to say I'm sorry. I want to make sure you know that I'm sorry."

Shock pushed the disgust off of his face. "You've gotta be kiddin' me," he muttered, and jammed open the door.

She jumped back, trying to avoid getting hit. "I know it's too little, too late, but you've got to hear me. You've got to know how sorry I am."

He slammed the door shut and started to stomp towards the steps leading to the diner. "Wrong. There's nothing I've 'got to' do for you ever again."

"Luke, please." She'd said it without thinking, and the repercussions of saying his name nearly tore her in two. She pressed one arm over her chest, trying to staunch the pain and skittered after him. "Please let me say this. Please listen. Just for a minute."

He stopped at the top of the steps. He turned back, looking over her head, far away down the alley. She could tell how much he wished he was far away from her. "One minute," he said, gruffly.

"OK." Now that she had her chance, everything she'd wanted to say had slipped away to some dark crevasse in her brain. She licked her lips nervously, trying to recall something, anything.

"I'm sorry," she began, desperately. "I'm sorry I hurt you. What I did was so, so awful that I can't believe sometimes that it really happened. It's like a bad dream, you know? It's like I'm in the middle of a really awful horror movie and I can't get up and walk out. I have to sit there and watch it over and over. I can't get away from it. That's one of the worst parts of it, knowing that it really happened."

"Wow, sorry it's been so rough on you," he said sarcastically, turning to the door.

"No!" She leaped over to the old wooden stoop and reached through the railing, actually grabbing his arm for a split second to stop him. "Please listen to me. I'm trying to tell you that I know how much I hurt you. I know how horrible I was. I know what I did was unforgivable. I know you didn't love me by then, but what I did to you was so terrible. I'm sorry I didn't try to talk to you before. I'm sorry I made it into an ultimatum. I'm sorry I walked away."

Her breathing had grown so ragged she had to stop. Her chest wheezed as she tried to choke down some air.

Luke had grown very still. Eventually his eyes closed and his head tilted down.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her heart in those words. "I'm so, so sorry."

He nodded once. She saw the muscle in his jaw flex as he swallowed hard. He reached for the door handle.

"Wait!" She had one more thing on the agenda.

"What?" he muttered, sounding absolutely exhausted.

She sat down the travel mug on the edge of the steps and plunged her fingers into the small watch pocket on her denim shorts. "Here," she said, gingerly reaching towards him, her engagement ring still managing to twinkle in the light of the setting sun.

"No!" He recoiled, almost pressing himself back against the door. "Get that thing away from me!" he spat out.

She drew it back, hesitating for a moment. Then she offered it again. "I can't keep it. You know I can't keep it."

He was angry again. He rose up to his full height, towering so far above her on the steps. "I am _never_ touching that fucking thing again. I don't give a damn what you do with it, but get it away from me!"

She shoved it hastily back into her pocket. Although she'd been known to drop an f-bomb in front of Luke from time to time, mainly for the shock value, he'd never before uttered it in her presence. She knew to take his message seriously. She'd have to figure out another way.

He fumbled for the door without giving her another look and practically threw himself inside. The door clicked closed, leaving her alone once again.

Lorelai picked up the coffee mug and stumbled to the street on numb legs. She was amazed when she emerged from the shadows into the soft golden glow of evening. It felt like she'd been secreted in the dark pain of the alley for hours.

She stopped for a moment in front of the electronics store. She looked at her reflection and pulled herself together. She walked home, nodding hello to various townsfolk as she passed them.

She hurt. She was shaking from the emotional scene she'd just instigated. But at the same time, she was exhilarated. At least she'd taken the first steps with Luke. Whether he'd ever forgive her or if they'd ever reach some sort of friendship again was beside the point. She was doing what she needed to do to live with herself.

There was a chance she was actually going to be Lorelai Gilmore again after all.

* * *

The phone trilled shrilly, and Lorelai flailed at the back of the couch, trying to keep herself from tumbling off it onto the floor. She'd fallen asleep on the couch and now the phone had nearly given her a heart attack.

Her hand connected with the phone and smacked it out of the base unit. She scrambled to pick it up. "Hello?"

She listened for a moment, one hand pushing back her wild curls. She was breathing hard, and she was convinced she couldn't be hearing what she was.

"Babette. Babette, slow down. What do you mean?" She was shuffling towards the front door as her neighbor continued to give her the lowdown. "That doesn't ― that doesn't make any sense, Babette."

She tucked the phone under her chin as she pulled open the front door.

Her teeth started to chatter so loud in her head that she thought for sure the flannel-clad person sitting on her steps could surely hear them.

"Yes, Babette, you're right," she said into the phone. "It is Luke sitting on my steps." She listened a little longer. "No, I don't know what he's doing here. I'll talk to you later, Babette. Thanks for the call."

She tossed the phone on the entry table and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. She didn't think anything about the fact that she had on nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts until the cool morning breeze made her shiver. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the bare head of the man sitting on her steps.

Luke didn't seem to be aware of her presence, but then he shifted over, making room for her to sit down beside him.

She was confused. She didn't know what to make of his being here. She didn't have a script in her head for this anomaly. Finally she padded over to the steps and sat down, leaning her shoulder against the railing beside her, keeping as far from him as she could.

He didn't say anything for a long time, and she kept quiet as well. She'd learned not to rush him.

"Last week, when you came to talk to me..." he began, finally. He kept his focus straight ahead, maybe on the mailbox.

She nodded, watching him, aching to touch him. She wanted to hold him so much, to somehow take the pain away.

" ...you said something about how I didn't love you."

"What?" she asked, shaking her head. She was so flabbergasted by his presence on her steps that she could barely remember her name, let alone anything she might have babbled to him a week ago.

He cleared his throat, shifted his legs awkwardly. "You said that night, when you went to ― when you went away from me. You said you knew I didn't love you by then."

"Oh, right." The words came back to her then. "That." She decided to pretend that they were just having a normal conversation. To pretend that each of these words weren't in fact making her die a little bit more. "Yeah, see, when your fiancé doesn't want you to meet his daughter, or even be really involved in his life anymore, that's usually what it means. Sorry. I just ― I didn't understand. Well, more like I didn't want to believe it, I guess. I'm sorry I was so dense."

"Will you stop apologizing?" he snapped out.

Her impulse was to instantly say 'sorry' again, so she clamped her lips closed, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms.

Luke appeared to be regrouping again. He looked down at the board under his feet. "So that night; that crazy night out in the street, when you kept asking me if I loved you ..." He paused for a beat, shaking his head, almost as if he was trying to make sense of it all. "You were serious about that. You honestly thought I didn't love you?"

She felt her throat closing up on her. She didn't dare do anything but nod.

He glanced over at her and then looked away. His fingers gripped his kneecaps, and she wondered if it was just the early morning shadows making his face look so haggard.

"It's ―It's OK," she said a little desperately, wanting more than anything for that look to leave his face. That handsome, strong, wonderful face. That face that had once looked at her with such love. "Really, Luke, it's OK."

She thought he tried to say something a couple of times, but nothing came out of his mouth. He pulled himself up from the steps and stood on the sidewalk in front of her, his hands on his waist as he looked at the ground.

"Well, you were wrong," he said hoarsely, and then he walked away as fast as he could.


	2. Recovery

_The doctor grabbed the patient's chart as he opened the door to his office. He gave the family seated there, waiting on him, a quick, professional smile as he scooted over to the desk, flipping through the chart as he went. He took his seat and continued to briskly look over the test results clipped into the file._

_Finally he looked up, knowing how hard it was for the family to wait on his verdict._

_"Well," he said. "These last numbers look promising. Very promising. She's made remarkable progress."_

_"But is she cured?" the mother demanded._

_He shook his head at her. He'd dealt with her kind before. They wanted absolutes._

_"We might not ever to be able to say she's completely cured," he began. "What we're hoping for here, optimally, is that she's able to go on living her life in a relatively normal fashion."_

_"So. Should we take her somewhere else then?" the father asked, with a little bit more belligerence than what the doctor liked._

_"That's certainly always your prerogative," he told them, coolly. "But it's doubtful that you could find a treatment anywhere that would guarantee a cure. It just doesn't exist."_

_The patient's daughter looked at him with big, somber eyes. "I just want my Mom back," she stated simply._

_He found himself smiling back at her warmly. "I'm pretty sure I can promise you that."_

_"So what's the bottom line here?" the father broke in, impatiently._

_The doctor sighed. "The bottom line is that we've done what we could. We've given her what she needs to fight back. The rest is up to her."_

_He looked at the daughter again. "But I'm optimistic." He patted the folder in front of him, containing the mysterious numbers that somehow foretold the future. "If she continues the way she has so far, I'm cautiously optimistic that she's going to have a long, happy life."_

* * *

It had been a typical summer afternoon at the Dragonfly. A family had just returned from a hike and was helping themselves to some of Sookie's lemonade and cookies on the sideboard. A businessman had his laptop open in the library. Two gray-haired ladies were strolling across the lobby, discussing the prices at Mrs. Kim's.

Lorelai glanced up and smiled at one and all, judging if she was needed. Deciding she wasn't, she went back to her computer screen, trying to determine how it was possible that the second week in September appeared to be completely double-booked.

Just a minute or two later the atmosphere changed as if the barometer had dropped. When Lorelai looked up, frowning, the entire lobby had cleared. Not one person was in sight.

No one except for an angry, red-faced man who was barreling towards her, an envelope clutched in his waving fist.

"Would you like to tell me what this is supposed to be?" he growled at her, smacking it down on the counter.

She pretended to look at it. "Hmm. Looks like a cashier's check to me, Luke." She hadn't really meant to be a smart-ass, but his attitude just seemed to demand it.

His eyes got darker as his scowl deepened. "I know that, Lorelai!" he snapped back at her. "But what the hell is it for?"

She sighed. She knew they'd have to have this conversation in one form or another, but she'd been hoping he'd be in a better mood when they had it. "Let's go into my office," she suggested. She saw him starting to balk, so she made her voice firmer. "I'm not having this discussion out here in the middle of my business," she added, decisively.

She walked over and opened her office door and stood there, waiting for him to enter past her. He was fuming, but walked inside. She followed him in and closed the door.

Suddenly her office seemed even tinier than it actually was. His presence filled it up and his irritation burned away the oxygen. There was no room left for her. There was no air left for her.

Somehow she made it over to her desk. She leaned against it, gratefully, doing her best to pretend that she was still functioning.

He waved the check at her again. "Explain this. Now!"

"We still owed you $22,700 on the Dragonfly loan," Lorelai recited.

"This is a lot more than $22,700!"

She took a deep breath. "And it's the money you put into the house."

His agitation lessened. Obviously he hadn't expected that. He looked at the numbers on the check again. "What?"

"I had a pretty good idea how much you'd paid, but I've got the folder with all the receipts, so I added it up. The total is the Dragonfly loan plus your part of the house renovation."

He pushed at the band of the ugly black hat he was wearing. "I didn't..." he started, staring at the check. He swallowed and tried again. "I didn't put money into the renovation, expecting to be paid back," he said gruffly.

"No, you expected to live there," she pointed out, trying to sound reasonable and not heartbroken.

He grimaced at that. "Where did you even get money like this?"

She shrugged. "The First National Bank of Guilt in Hartford."

His mouth dropped open. "You went to your parents?"

She squared her shoulders. "Yes."

He slapped the check down on the desk. "I don't want you back in debt with them! I don't want this at all!"

"They understand," she tried to explain. "They completely understand why I need to pay you back."

"Well I don't understand!" he yelled again, frustrated. "I didn't do it to be paid back!"

"Why is it every time I pay back a debt, I get in trouble?" she groused, mostly to herself. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out a way to explain it to him. "Look, for just a minute, can you imagine what it's like to be me?"

He looked at her distrustfully.

She swallowed painfully. Her mind, for just a moment, considered trying to come up with quips and funny lines to explain, but she abandoned that as completely unpractical. She wasn't ready yet to do funny. Maybe she never would be.

"I wake up every morning in the bed we picked out together," she began, her voice barely carrying over the few feet to where he stood. She saw him cringe, but she continued. "At least I do on the days I can stand to sleep up there at all. I wake up and I see the room that's this perfect combination of the two people we used to be together. I go into the bathroom, where only one of the double sinks gets used. And then I walk over to my extra-big closet."

He was staring down at the carpet now, his hands on his hips.

"I walk downstairs," she continued, "and somehow, everything in what used to be my house has turned into a reminder of you. And then I get in my car, and I drive here to my business. The business I wouldn't have if it wasn't for you propping up my bank account at just the right moment."

He rubbed at his brow, even as he started to shake his head. "But Lorelai, I don't want the money back," he insisted.

She settled her hip a little further back on her desk. "Either I pay you back, or I'm going to have to sell the house, Luke. I can't go on the way it is."

His head shot up, startled, and their eyes met. "I don't ―" he began. He tore his gaze away and looked over at the window. "I wouldn't want you to do that," he said, his voice sincere. "That's your home. Yours and Rory's."

"Then take the money," she said, gently. "Let me try and get back on my own feet again, OK?"

A huff of frustration escaped his lips as he reached for the check. He studied the figures again. "It's a lot of money," he muttered, still sounding peeved.

She nodded in agreement. "You know, you could put it into an account for April's schooling. That'd pay for quite a bit of her college, no matter where she ends up going."

"Yeah." His head tipped as he considered that. "As smart as she is, I figure she'll get some scholarships, but yeah. Maybe that's a good idea."

She found herself almost smiling at him. "Even if she does get some help with tuition, college is really expensive. You've heard me groan enough times when I see an envelope with the Yale business office stamped on it."

"Yeah," he said again, his forehead creasing in thought. He sat down gingerly on the chair facing her desk as he contemplated the check.

"Or, you know what?" She couldn't stop herself from offering another idea, even though her internal sensor that monitored self-preservation was letting out some warning tones. "You could find yourself a nice little house."

He frowned at her again. "Why would I do that?"

She was beginning to nod like a maniac, knowing she was going over the edge. "You know, for you and April. Someplace that you could make into a real home for the two of you." Her fingers were clutching the edge of her desk, using the solid wood as a lifeline.

"Well, I …" He shook his head slowly, looking first at the check and then glancing up at her. "I never thought of that. But maybe. Maybe that'd be an idea." He took a breath; blew it out. "Maybe I'll talk it over with her. See what she thinks."

"Sure. You should totally do that." Her voice barely wobbled at all. In relief, she raised her right hand to push back a strand of hair that had tumbled forward.

The summer sun hit her hand. Luke's face went back to looking chagrined in an instant. She snatched the hand back and tucked it under her thigh, but it was too late.

He jumped to his feet. "You're wearing that?" he bellowed. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"It's mine," she told him, lifting her chin in defiance. "You didn't want it. I paid for it, so it's mine now." She nodded towards the check in his hand.

He glared distastefully at the check. "What are you talking about?"

"I asked Kirk how much it was. I added that to the check, too. So now it's mine."

She could tell she'd managed to throw him so off-balance he didn't know how to react. She watched anger and disbelief mingle on his face.

"How can you possibly wear that?" he gritted out. "What? It's just something pretty and shiny to you? How can you wear that and not..." His voice trailed off, as he shook his head in disgust.

"It is pretty," she agreed. She put out her hand, looking at the ring she was wearing on her right hand. "It's a lot prettier than a piece of string."

He looked at her stonily, his chin jerking at her to continue.

"It's my reminder, Luke." She turned her hand to him, demanding he look at it, too. Her heart was pounding but she felt the need to drive the point home. "I don't want to forget how cruel I can be. I don't want to forget how easy it is to ruin your entire life in just one, thoughtless moment. Every time the diamond snags on a thread, I remember. Every time the light catches it, I remember. I want to remember, Luke. This ring's my conscience."

His free hand rubbed over his jaw. He sat back down, slowly, on the chair, and he stared down at the floor again. "Listen, Lorelai ―" He stopped, shaking his head. "That's not ― That's not what I want for you, OK? I don't want you to ― to keep beating yourself up over this, you know? Eventually you need to go on. Be happy again."

"Maybe," she said, feebly. "Someday." She smiled grimly. "That's why I'm doing this. I'm trying."

He gave a huge sigh as he glanced around the room. "I know that the idea of you and me together seemed like a good plan," he said, hesitantly. "We kept trying to force it to work, but maybe it just wasn't right. That's what Liz says, and I'm beginning to think she knows what she's talking about. Maybe you and I were just never meant to be together at all."

She was able to get a finger over her lips, locking the sob inside, but she couldn't do anything about her eyes that instantly brimmed over. She understood that he meant the words to be comforting, but they hurt too much.

He looked up at her, and his solemn eyes met her tear-filled ones and froze there. She saw the moment he lost his anger and hurt and confusion and became nothing more than her Luke again; the man who had always wanted to protect her from pain and unhappiness.

"Lorelai," he whispered, helplessly.

Her phone started to beep incessantly on her desk. She leaned over to view the display, taking the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

"Sorry," she said, trying to smile at him apologetically. Her voice was still choked with tears. "I've got to take this. Do you mind?"

"Oh, sure," he said, getting up at once. He hurried to the door, seemingly in relief. "Thanks for this, I guess," he said, waving the check in his hand. "I'll think about what you said."

He closed the door softly behind him.

She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook with barely-suppressed sobs. She hadn't cried in weeks, but today she had no choice. She let the phone go to voicemail as she cried, just one more time, over the man who'd stopped loving her too soon.

* * *

As the summer progressed, Lorelai got more and more used to the 'new normal' she was creating. She got used to stepping inside Stars Hollow businesses without checking to make sure he wasn't inside first. She got used to walking down the streets and nodding casually to him if she happened to pass him. She got used to going to town meetings again, where she carefully sat on the opposite side of the room if he was in attendance, too.

She tried to keep quiet at those meetings, not wanting to call undue attention to herself, but Stars Hollow was Stars Hollow, and Taylor was Taylor, and eventually the ridiculousness quotient was so high that she had no choice but let a zinger fly. It earned her a smattering of applause, and, miracle of miracles, Luke turned around and looked approvingly at her while a slow smile crossed his lips.

She didn't think she'd ever see a smile on his face again, at least not directed at her. She replayed it in her head again and again; trying to make sure it was committed to memory. The rest of the meeting drifted over her as she sat lost in her own personal YouTube video.

Days passed by and became weeks, and each week contained some new goal that she'd accomplished. Some milestone that turned her more into that Lorelai Gilmore she used to be.

Eventually she even got used to the feeling that she was missing some important part of herself each day, as though she'd forgotten to strap on an arm or leg.

This was the new normal, and she was pushing herself to accept it.

However, there was one thing she absolutely couldn't force herself to do. Stepping inside the diner, even with Rory offering to go in with her, was completely out of her depth. That was his place, filled with his essence. It was filled with too many years of bantering at the counter. Crammed full with too many memories of paint samples and danishes. It was laden with the knowledge that there hadn't been enough kisses. The acknowledgement of the pitiful amount of 'I love yous' shared there wrenched at her heart. And then, there was the paralyzing memory of walking out the door for what had turned out to be the last time.

For her, Stars Hollow no longer had a diner.

That one subterfuge helped her to go on with the rest of her life.

* * *

Lorelai bent her head and let her forehead lean against the archway into the kitchen. The plaster felt sticky on this hot, late August afternoon. She ran through options in her head, and came up with the same conclusion: She was out of options. She had no choice.

Slowly she brought the phone up to her head, and punched in the number she'd never forget, even though she assumed she'd never dial it again. As it started to ring on the other end, she prayed that Lane or Caesar would answer it, or ―

"Luke's," his voice stated, saturated with his usual impatience.

"Luke! Um, hi! It's, uh, it's Lorelai!" She pressed her hand hard against the arch, trying to quell her nervousness. "Listen, I hate to bother you, but, uh, it seems like I've gotten myself into a bit of a jam here, and I can't come up another solution. I had things all arranged with Sookie, but her kids and Jackson all have the flu, and, well, you know he's scared of Apricot, and Michel doesn't want him around PawPaw and ChinChin ― like he thinks he's a bad influence or something ― and Rory's back at school, you know, and I just couldn't think of anyone else to ask."

She finally stopped to take a breath, listening to the silence coming from his end of the non-conversation.

"Jackson's scared of Babette's cat?" he asked at last, confused.

"No! No!" She was shocked to hear herself laugh. "No, Paul Anka, Luke! Paul Anka is scared of Apricot!"

"Paul Anka is scared of his own shadow."

"Just that one time," she loyally defended her dog.

"So what are you asking here, exactly?" he questioned, and his voice didn't sound like he was already primed to say no.

"I'm getting ready to go out of town," she explained. "For ten days. Sookie said Paul Anka could stay with them, because I didn't want to leave him here for that long, and you know he doesn't do kennels, but I just found out that Martha and Davey and Jackson are all sick, and she says to go ahead and bring him over anyway, but I can't do that to her. And I can't take him to Babette and Morey because of Apricot, and I can't ask Michel because he doesn't want Paul Anka around his dogs, and Rory's already back in school, and I don't want her driving back and forth everyday to check on him, and ―"

"When are you leaving?" he interrupted her litany.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I need to head to the airport in 30 minutes."

She listened to the silence on his end again.

"We'll be there in ten," he promised.

She ran around like the crazy person she surely was, a bright pink shopping bag flying out behind her as she gathered water bowls and kibble, leashes, and the liver treats in the sky-blue bag that didn't freak him out. She found the sock of Rory's that he liked to sniff as he fell asleep. While searching the house for his items she grabbed the last few things for herself, too, and threw them into the Jeep.

The ten minutes flew by. It wasn't until she heard the truck and saw a head in the passenger seat that she recalled he'd said 'we.'

"April!" she said, with a false bright note in her voice. "Hi! It's great to see you!"

"Hi," the girl replied, sliding out of the truck's cab.

Luke walked around the truck, studying the house instead of her.

"So, how ― How are you?" Lorelai asked, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt. Her heart had sunk down as far as it could go. She couldn't believe he'd brought her here. Now, when it didn't matter.

"I'm fine," April replied, shrugging. She looked around curiously.

Paul Anka had been sitting on the porch, worriedly watching the newcomers. He suddenly tilted his head, sniffed, and then trotted up expectantly. He put his nose against Luke's kneecap, then leaned against him in pure contentment.

Luke bent over and scratched at the dog's ears. "Hi, you dumb mutt." His voice contained more affection than what the words would have indicated.

"So, this is the famous Paul Anka?" April asked. She squatted down to pet him.

Paul Anka sniffed at her and seemed to make the connection between the girl and Luke. He allowed the petting, in spite of the scary glasses on her face.

"The one and only," Lorelai said. "Well, the only dog one. As far as I know."

Paul Anka put a wet nose against April's cheek and she laughed.

"Did you have a good summer?" Lorelai asked. It was a lame question, but the only thing she could think to say.

"Yeah, it was great," April replied. She was grinning as she ran her hand through the hair that perpetually stuck up on the top of Paul Anka's head. "Mom and I went out to visit my Grandma for awhile. And Luke keeps dragging me around to look at houses."

Lorelai's head shot up to look at him. "Oh, really?" she murmured, and he nodded, looking sort of pleased with himself.

"Yeah," April continued. "He thinks I need a house to come to here, but I don't. I love living above the diner. I mean, who wouldn't?"

"Leftover pie at midnight." The words had burst out of Lorelai from some forgotten place.

"Exactly!" April said, nodding. "But he doesn't get it!"

"Sad, isn't it?" Lorelai added. "He'll never know the joy of boysenberry at 2 AM."

"I don't need both of you pickin' on me," Luke said. His tone was dry and amiable. He sounded almost as if he was actually enjoying it.

She swiftly studied him again, troubled. While this interaction was using up every bit of finesse she had to keep her cool façade in place, it didn't seem to be bothering him at all. The old Lorelai might have gotten sharp and catty, but this new Lorelai, who was still feeling her way on what was normal and what was not, just let it slide.

"Sorry," she offered, her now-standard response.

His eyes tracked over her in a moment, and he frowned. "April, why don't you go give him a quick run in the backyard before we get him in the truck," he suggested.

"Sure!" April sprang up and hit her hands on her thighs as she danced backwards. "Come on, Paul Anka! Come on, boy!"

At first Lorelai thought that at least not having to interact with April would decrease the weirdness factor. She was wrong. She glanced up at him with an unsure smile as the uneasy silence wrapped over them.

"So, you're going on a trip?" he questioned, looking up at the roof of the house.

"Yep. Out west. Utah. Salt Lake City, actually." She had to force the information out in tiny little pieces, all the while keeping the strained smile in place while she tried to imagine this was all an everyday thing, sort of like the way it used to be.

"Ten days is kind of a long trip," he commented, while his eyes studied the front windows.

"Well," she shrugged, "not when you've got another job."

"What?" He was no longer pretending to be interested in house maintenance. He was glaring at her, his hands clenched at his hips. "You've what? You promised me! You promised you weren't leaving!"

"I don't mean a job like that," she began to explain, wondering when she'd made a promise like that. "I mean another job. A second job. Something to just kind of fill in."

His face grew dark. "Because of the money," he grumbled. "You're doing this because of that damn money you insisted on paying me back."

"No!" she protested. "Well...Yeah, I guess it would be nice to be out of hock with my parents before I die. But that's not why I did it."

"Go on," he ordered.

She looked at the side of the house, now wishing that April and Paul Anka would come bounding back. "I needed something else to do. Rory doesn't need me very much any more, you know. And the Dragonfly is practically on autopilot. I love it, and it's fun, but I'm hardly needed there some days. And ―" She bit down hard on her lower lip, damming up the reminder that he hadn't needed her at all. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I needed a hobby, or something else to occupy myself. So I thought, hey, why not make some money, too? So I called Mike Armstrong. Remember, that guy with the Durham Group that wanted to buy the Dragonfly?"

"Yes," Luke said curtly, rolling his eyes.

She nodded. "So I called, and they hired me on as a sort of consultant. I'm sort of a secret shopper for them. I go to places that they own, or places that they're thinking of buying and report back to them about what I think. I've gone twice so far, but they've just been weekend trips to New Hampshire and Rhode Island. This trip is longer, because they own three places around Salt Lake already, and they're considering two more. It just makes sense for me to see them all at once."

His hands were still clenched but his voice didn't sound angry. In fact, it sounded like he needed reassurance. "But you're coming back, right?" His face looked worried.

"Of course I'm coming back." She saw April and Paul Anka running towards them, and she smiled at him tentatively. "I have to come back. You've got my dog."

He nodded, and then deliberately turned his focus to April. "Let's get loaded up and get going," he called out to his daughter.

Lorelai handed him the huge pink shopping bag and was gratified by another eye roll. He stashed it in the bed of the truck while April coaxed Paul Anka into the cab.

"I'm going to keep him occupied out in the square while Luke doggy-proofs the apartment," April informed her. "He told me about the chocolate-eating incident."

"Yeah, that was bad." She looked at Luke and their eyes locked for a moment before they both self-consciously looked away. "Your dad saved his life that night."

"It wasn't that dramatic," Luke protested, but there was something about the way his jaw was set that told more of the story.

She stepped closer to the truck, looking in through the window. Paul Anka looked at her quizzically. Then he sniffed at Luke and seemed to accept the situation.

"Call me if you need to," she said. "I've still got the same cell number. If you ―" She suddenly tripped all over herself. "You know, if you kept it. If you've still got it. If you ―"

"Of course I've still got your number, Lorelai," he said, gruffly.

"Oh! Well, good!" She nodded briskly. "And I'll let you know when Sookie is ready for him. Hopefully it will only be a couple of days."

"Don't bother." Luke glanced over Paul Anka's head at April, then looked back at her firmly. "We'll be fine. Don't bother Sookie."

"Oh. OK then. If you're sure." She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back as he put the truck into gear.

He turned his eyes to her and searched over her face for a brief moment. "Have a safe trip," he offered. "We'll see you when you get back."

"Thanks," she nodded. She was able to smile without it feeling weird. "Thanks for helping me out here."

She stood for a minute longer in the yard, watching as the truck disappeared down the street, carrying away within it almost everything she wanted in life.

* * *

By the time Lorelai changed planes at O'Hare she was able to tuck away the bizarreness of entrusting Paul Anka to Luke and of having April actually visit her house. She locked it away with all of the other things she didn't permit herself to dwell on any longer.

She wheeled her little suitcase behind her like an extra-obedient dog and lost herself in the bustle of the multitude of travelers in the concourse. She browsed in the gift shops and grabbed a slice of pizza at a Sbarro's. When it was finally time to line up to board her flight to Salt Lake, the thrill of being on a trip was buzzing through her veins. She smiled at everyone and nearly bounced into the plane. She was starting to remember all of those dreams of traveling the world she'd had when she was a kid.

Progress came to a halt as a passenger ahead of her lobbed his suitcase into an overhead bin. She spotted what was going to be her seat, four rows ahead. Looked like she was going to be sandwiched between two guys.

_Dirty_, she thought, grinning. She couldn't remember the last time that thought had popped into her head.

She stopped and pushed the telescoping handle back down into her suitcase as she picked it up, preparing to shove it into the storage bin.

The dark-haired man sitting on the aisle jammed his magazine into the seat pocket and jumped up. "Here. Let me," he said, reaching for her suitcase.

"Thanks," Lorelai said, having no qualms about letting him take over. "This is me," she added, and slipped into the middle seat.

"Hi," she offered to the man at the window. He barely acknowledged her and immediately went back to studying papers he'd pulled from a folder in his lap. She smiled, thinking of her father.

The other man plopped down on the seat to her right, and she knew at once why he had the aisle seat as he tried to contain his long legs and arms. His dark brown hair was parted in the middle and sort of long, looking kind of how Keanu Reeves wore his, except it worked on this guy. He turned and gave her a friendly, open smile, and she noticed that there was a little gray mingling with the dark brown. His cheeks sported the popular three-day scruff look, and she braced herself for the Luke hurt, but it didn't come.

"So is Salt Lake the end of the trip for you or just a layover?" he asked, his voice sounding like he was genuinely interested.

"End of the trip," she confirmed. "How about you?"

"It's my home," he said. "Has been for about eight years now."

"I'm just visiting," she added.

"Business or pleasure?" he asked. His right eyebrow gave a naughty waggle, even as the rest of his face retained his wholesome smile.

"Business," she said with pride, and another thrill shot through her as she was able to say that.

"There's a lot of that going on out there," he said. "Good for me, though."

"Oh? What do you do?"

"Architect," he said, with a self deprecating shrug. "We've got more work than we can handle."

"Well, that's got to be a good problem," she observed.

"Yeah, except when you're so busy you can't find time to come home for a visit."

"I thought you said Salt Lake was home."

He grinned at her, giving her a nod of approval as she caught him in an error. "It's home now. But I was raised here in the Midwest, and my mom and sisters have been trying to get me back for a visit since Christmas. This was the first chance I've had."

"Sisters?"

"Three," he nodded, with a long-suffering sigh.

Her eyes tracked over him. "You love them to pieces."

He grinned at her again. "Yeah," he said, "even when they're a pain."

She made sure her seatbelt was tight and pushed against the tray-table, making sure it was secure. "So I guess you're not one of the Osmonds, huh?"

He laughed, a rich, delighted laugh. "No!"

"Oh." She pulled out her phone; made sure it was off. "Well, you know. The hair, the teeth, the all-American glow. I thought it was possible."

He looked at her with pretended regret, and she noticed the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes. "Can't carry a tune," he admitted. "Two left feet," he added, shuffling them together from where they were stashed under the seat in front of him.

"I doubt that," she disputed. "You've got that athlete thing stamped all over you."

"Football," he acknowledged. "But that's far removed from dancing."

"Hmm," was all she said. She was watching the flight attendants point out the emergency exits.

The plane taxied down the runway, bumping over things she hoped it was supposed to be bumping over. They pulled into line and the motors whined into a louder pitch. She gripped the arms of her seat.

He glanced at her tensed hands. "Are you OK?"

"Sure." She smiled grimly. "I'm fine."

"You're not nervous about flying, are you?"

"I'm _fine_ about flying. It's the taking-off part I'm not sure about."

"It'll be OK," he said, with reassuring authority.

"Oh, I know!" she agreed, bobbing her head. "It's just...My daughter read this report once, about how the biggest percentage of crashes occur during take-offs and landings. She showed it to me because she thought it'd make me less nervous about flying over the ocean. Unfortunately, it sort of backfired on her."

He chuckled. He put his hand out towards her, his fingers curled in towards his palm. "Feel free to hang on, if you want. I've had plenty of practice with three nervous sisters."

She looked at his steady hand but shook her head. "I'm fine." She gave him a quick, jumpy smile. "I can do this on my own."

"Of course you can," he said, and settled back into his seat.

The jet engines revved higher and the plane started to lurch down the concrete. Lorelai pressed her head into the cushion and dug into the armrests.

Suddenly his hand was back in front of her.

"Hi," he said, his voice friendly and kind. "I'm Daniel. I thought I should introduce myself in case we end up crashing here at the end of the runway."

She turned her head enough to look into those sympathetic, but mischievous, brown eyes. "Lorelai," she said. She paused, fighting with herself and her fears before she finally let her hand be swallowed up in his.

"Nice to meet you," he said warmly, and held her hand in a comforting grip as they barreled up into the sky.

* * *

She needed every inch of her long legs as she tried to keep up with Daniel's hurried strides to the luggage carousels. _Another advantage of being tall,_ she thought victoriously.

They'd chatted continually during most of the flight. She knew all about his sisters and his small, one-room architecture firm that had expanded into a whole building. He knew all about Rory and the Dragonfly. She was sure they'd driven the businessman seated next to her crazy.

Daniel's suitcase appeared first. He jostled through the crowd and pulled it off, double-checking that it was his. He came back and stood by Lorelai, appearing unsure for the first time.

"I've got my car here," he said. "Over in the long-term parking. I'd be happy to drop you off someplace."

"Oh, thanks, but ―"

"Or we could go get dinner." He made it sound like a statement, but she sensed it was nerves instead of pushiness.

"Thanks," she said again, "but I've got to get checked in. And I've actually got an expense account to use, so I think I should take advantage of it. I appreciate the offer, though." She smiled, keeping her eyes peeled for her suitcase.

She saw him deflate a little bit. He dropped his suitcase and pulled out his wallet. "Here," he said, handing her a business card. "My sisters all say I make a pretty good tour guide. If you get bored with your business stuff and want to see the sights, give me a call."

She turned the card over nervously, not sure what to say.

"I'd love to see you again," he said, in a rush, "but I'm not trying to push you. Just keep the card and call if you want to. I have a wealth of accomplishments to my credit. For example, I'm one of the few people who have figured out how to get a drink in this city. So if you suddenly find you need a drink, give me a call."

She frowned and smiled at the same time. "Daniel, I ―"

"Just keep the card," he pressed her. "That's all."

She lost the frown and just smiled. "OK." She slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Thanks for the hand-holding. It really helped."

"My pleasure." He gathered his bags together and nodded at her. "Hope your trip's a success."

"Thanks. It was great meeting you."

"You too," he sighed.

Lorelai watched as he headed for the doors leading outside. She felt really pleased with herself.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done," she murmured. She caught sight of her fluorescent pink bandana tied to the handle of her suitcase and stepped forward to claim it.

Her adventure was beginning and for the first time in forever she felt like she was ready for whatever life decided to throw her way.

* * *

It turned out that she and the Durham Group were made for each other.

Because she owned her own inn and knew the potential problem areas, she was able to spot things that might have been hidden to anyone else. She knew how to casually chat up maids and busboys. She knew what to look for in the lobby. There were a hundred little things that she spotted and added to the running list in her head.

Every night she fired up her laptop and sent off a report filled with details to Benita, Mike Armstrong's sister, who was in charge of prospective investments. She sent another to Dale, Benita's husband, who watched over the properties they owned. And every morning she got replies back, complimenting her on the great job she was doing. She basked in their approval, feeling as though each email was covered in gold stars. It was the first time she'd felt like she was good at what she was doing in a very long time.

The days flew by while she moved from one property to another, her head filled with details of the new place she was observing instead of regrets. She stood up straighter, breathed deeper. Smiled more. Remembered how easy conversation used to be for her. And every time she stepped outside she was gobsmacked all over again by the deep blue sky and the mountain vistas abundant from every vantage point.

About halfway through her trip she came back to her room after suffering through a pasta dinner in the dining room that Sookie wouldn't have even fed to the cats that came to the Dragonfly's back door. She was contemplating how to describe the awfulness of it as she logged onto her computer.

Her heart thumped happily as she saw emails waiting on her from Rory and Sookie. There was even one from Michel. She thought about deleting that one before she even read it. And then she noticed one from 'nerdysciencegirl.'

Shivers crawled up and down her spine as she clicked on it. Somehow she already knew.

"Oh, my god," she breathed out, seeing it confirmed. "April."

_Hi, Lorelai,_ she read._ Luke had your email address and said maybe I should give you an update on Paul Anka. He's doing fine in case you're interested, and I'm sure you are. He's really a fascinating creature. I don't know much about dogs, but he doesn't fit into anything I thought I knew. I got some books from the library so I could take care of him better. Sometimes he looks around the diner like he misses you. Like he wonders where you are._

Her heart caught and then started beating faster. Then she realized April was talking about Paul Anka, and she felt foolish.

_I've been keeping track of what he does on the days I'm around. Here are the statistics so far._

She'd included a chart, listing every time Paul Anka ate, what he ate, how many times he'd gone outside, and what had scared him during the course of the day. The last category was a long one.

_I think he'd make a really good science project. If you don't mind, maybe I can study him some more and find a way to compare him to more normal dogs. Do you think I could do that?_

_I hope you're having a good trip. I haven't been to Utah but my Grandmother lives in New Mexico. I wonder if there are any similarities?_

_You don't have to write back if you're busy or something. But if you want to, that would be fine._

_April (and Paul Anka, too.)_

Her eyes hurt from staring at the screen, unblinking. She was suddenly freezing. She got up to turn down the air conditioning and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet to wrap around her shoulders. She sat down in front of the computer and read the message again. And again.

She watched her finger as it hesitantly clicked on 'reply,' almost as if it didn't belong to her. She shivered and then started to type.

_Hi April,_

_Thanks for filling me in about Paul Anka. I do miss him. I'm glad he's in such good hands. I know he's a weird dog, but I love him anyway. Sometimes I think maybe he's not really a dog but some sort of hybrid. A dog and a...what? I can never decide on what else._

_I've never been to New Mexico, so I don't know how the states compare. Maybe I'll get to go someday and check out an inn there. All I know is that Utah is very beautiful. I finally understand why there are all of the songs and poems about mountains. They are pretty gosh-darn awesome._

_If you want to study Paul Anka and use him for a science project, that would be OK with me. I guess we should check with him, too, huh? You'd better make sure that's not one of the things he's scared of!_

_Thank you for watching over him and letting me know how he is. I really appreciate knowing he's in good hands._

She paused for a moment, biting down nervously on her lip, and then typed as fast as her fingers could move.

_I hope you're watching over your dad, too. I know he likes to pretend like he's all manly and tough, but he's not nearly as tough as he thinks he is. You've probably already figured that out, haven't you? Make sure you don't wake him up when you're sneaking downstairs for that midnight pie raid. He needs every minute of sleep he can get._

_I'd better get back to work now. Thanks for the update._

_Lorelai_

She clicked on 'send' before she could change her mind. Then she instantly had a panic-attack, worrying about what Anna would say if she knew Lorelai was emailing her daughter. Then she remembered it no longer mattered what Anna thought.

She turned on the TV, probably louder than she should have, just to have something to fill up the empty space in the room. She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders while she read the rest of her emails. She tucked Luke and April and all of the things she didn't dwell on anymore away, and set about doing her job.

At that moment she was more grateful for the Durham Group than she ever would have imagined.

* * *

Lorelai's total immersion in her extra job worked wonders on her psyche. She fell asleep debating whether or not there was enough traffic going by this particular property. Was it too hard to get to? Was the interstate too close by? She woke up, anxious to write down first impressions in the morning. Did the maids talk too loudly? Did the vacuum start too early out in the hall? And was it a garbage truck making all of that racket in the back?

She remembered how to have goofy conversations with strangers. She remembered the joy of strolling into a new shop. She remembered how breathtaking a pretty day can be, when you're not doubled over with sadness.

The trip was coming to an end ― a very successful end. She had one final property to observe and two days left. Already Benita and Dale were discussing where to send her next.

She had totally relegated April and Luke and most of Stars Hollow to a locked part of her brain and had temporarily thrown away the key. So of course that was when reality had to come and tap her on the shoulder. Of course that meant that April had to contact her again.

She closed her eyes while the email opened. She half expected it to be an angry rant from Anna, threatening her to stay the hell away from her daughter. She gingerly began to read.

_Woof woof, woof-woof, woof. (That's Paul Anka saying hi.)_

_Hi Lorelai! (That's me saying hi.)_

_He's still fine. Luke has him totally trained to be in the diner now. He has like this routine, and people expect him to be there. Taylor seems to be the only one who scares him. Taylor and broccoli._

_I'm back in school now, so I haven't gotten to see him as much. Luke came and got me today after school, and he brought Paul Anka with him. Half of the girls in my school had to come up to pet him. Some of the guys did, too. Well, one guy. His name's Jared and his locker's next to mine. He's OK, I guess, even though he's never looked through a telescope. How can you be 13 and never looked through a telescope?_

_Well, I have another reason for writing you. I have something to ask you, if you don't mind. It's something that I can't talk to Mom about. I've gotten the impression that you've been friends with Luke for a long time, so I thought maybe you could tell me what to do. I've been thinking for a while that maybe I should call him Dad. Do you think I should? I mean, he is, after all. But would that be too weird? Do you think he'd freak out? I don't want to freak him out, because he's just getting used to me. But do you think he'd like it? Sometimes I think yes and sometimes I think no. Can you help me make up my mind?_

_I guess you'll be home soon, won't you? Paul Anka will be very happy to see you._

_Your friend,_

_April_

Lorelai bowed her head and cradled her forehead in her hand. April's words chased each other through her brain. How in the world had the girl she wasn't even supposed to know turned into a pen pal?

Suddenly she sat up straight and clicked on 'reply,' scared that if she didn't do it immediately she never would.

_Hi April,_

_Thanks again for the update on Paul Anka. I hope he still recognizes me when I come home. Maybe I should wear a red rose in my lapel._

_I can't believe Luke allows him in the diner and lets him ride in the truck. Those used to be two very big no-nos. He never wanted Paul Anka around like that. You must have a great deal of power in your grasp to persuade him otherwise._

_As for locker-mate Jared, it may be that he's telling you he's never looked through a telescope before because he wants to look through a telescope with you. I'm just saying. I'm old and wise and know these things. Or maybe he really is just a deprived kid who's never looked through a telescope. But I'm betting not._

_Now to answer your big question. I think that Luke would be very pleased and proud if you'd call him Dad. I know for a fact that he loves you more than anything else in the world. If it feels right to you, you should do it. Don't make a big thing about it or anything, but say it if it feels right to you. You'll know. You'll know when it's the right time. And don't be surprised if he doesn't even catch it right away. But he will. Luke tends to tuck things away like that and ponder them. And trust me, if you decide to do it, it will make him very, very happy._

_Good luck. I'll be thinking of you._

_Lorelai_

Once again she hit the 'send' key without even checking over what she'd written for typos. Then she shut the laptop lid down with a decisive click.

She walked over to the window, trying to contain her agitation. Her heart was thumping so fast she felt sick. She was twisting the ring on her finger compulsively.

This was turning into a night when she really, really, _really_ needed a drink.

* * *

She was sitting on a sofa in the lobby when she saw Daniel enter. She stood up to greet him.

He stopped dead about a dozen steps in front of her. "Wow."

She glanced down at herself. She had on her least grubby pair of jeans. Her sleeveless top was pale green and ruffled. Nothing was worthy of a 'wow.' She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

He cleared his throat, flustered. "It's just, you know how you convince yourself that things aren't as good as you remember them? I figured you weren't nearly as pretty as my memory had you pegged." He looked at her in admiration again. "Turns out I was wrong."

It was her turn to be flustered. "I bet you say that to all of the girls from Connecticut."

He grinned. "You caught me."

"Not much gets past me," she bragged as he led her out to his car. "I can smell a line a mile away."

"I bet."

"And I see you still have that All-American glow. Do you have to take vitamins to maintain that?"

"Every day," he happily played along. "Don't tell anybody, OK?"

They'd stopped next to a black Jeep. "You're kidding. This is yours?"

"Um...Yes?" He looked uncertainly from the vehicle to her. "Sometimes I need to go out to a building site, so I need something a little rugged ―"

"No, no, it's fine!" she hurried to assure him, hearing the defensiveness in his voice. "I drive a Jeep, too! Well, mine's smaller, and older, and tan, and has a dent from where a deer hit it, but other than that, they're identical!"

"Oh, well, good," he said.

"Yeah. That's good," she agreed.

He helped her into the car and hurried around to get behind the wheel. "I thought we'd do a little sightseeing before we went to get dinner, if that's OK."

"Sounds great," she smiled. Anything sounded great. Anything to keep her from thinking about the man back home who was soon going to find himself being called Dad.

"So, you hit a deer?" he asked, as he pulled out in the street.

"No. My daughter was driving and a _deer_ hit _her,_" she explained patiently. "There's a big difference."

He cast her a confused glance, which made her chuckle.

She launched into the story, fed by Daniel's appreciative laughter. She found her voice and remembered she liked to tell stories. It was obvious Daniel did too. Conversation swirled around them as they parried words between them. She was surprised when he pulled into a parking lot because it seemed like they'd barely started driving.

"K Mart?" She frowned as she looked at the glowing sign on the big building. "You need to pick up some supplies? Some of those All-American vitamins? Is that today's blue light special?"

"That's it exactly," he said, climbing out of the car.

She was having flashbacks to her first date with Jason, but gamely she headed towards the store.

"Wrong way!" She turned to see Daniel standing at the rear of the car. He held his hand out to her. "Come this way. I want you to see something."

She tipped her head and studied him, barely smiling, as she made her way to him. She didn't take his hand, but he didn't seem offended.

"Over here," he said, leading the way to the edge of the parking lot.

Lorelai had been so involved in their conversation that she hadn't realized that they'd been steadily climbing as they traveled up the street. Nor had she noticed that the darkness of the evening had settled over them. Now she saw that much of the city lay below them, lights twinkling as if a galaxy had been brought down to earth to nestle between the mountains.

She gasped at the beauty of it. "That's...amazing." She panned her head as she tried to come up with a better description. "It's so pretty," she murmured, not able to do the scene justice.

"I know," he agreed with satisfaction, looking down at all of the streets and homes below them. "It never gets old to me. I don't know if it's because I come from land so flat you can see the whole county at once, but I'm constantly in awe of my surroundings. When I first moved here it happened all the time. I'd be walking out of the drugstore, and I'd just have to stop and stare at the mountains. They were just so beautiful. Meanwhile, all of the natives are trying to get around me. They're all looking at me like, what's wrong with him?"

"Like you're the crazy one," she suggested, smiling.

"Exactly." He was silent for a few moments, and then he swept his arm out at the scene in front of them. "I hope I stay crazy for a long time. I hope I never get used to this."

"I hope you stay crazy, too," she offered gently.

He smiled a thank you at her. "So are you ready for dinner?"

"Ha! My friend, you will learn that I'm always ready for dinner."

"Then off we go," he said, and shepherded her back to his Jeep. He studied her solemnly as he helped her in. "If it's OK, I'd like to take you to my favorite restaurant."

"Fine by me," she said eagerly.

"It might be...a little...unorthodox," he warned her, as he got behind the wheel.

"Is there food?"

He pretended to think about it. "Yes."

"Good food?"

"Yes."

"Lots of it?"

"Of that there's no doubt."

"Then let's go," she insisted, in the mood for a further adventure.

In no time Daniel was pulling off the highway and into a thriving shopping center. She could see an Office Depot, a grocery store, and maybe a Best Buy tucked in around the corner. She didn't see a restaurant. Well, there was a hamburger place, but …

"Here we are," Daniel said jovially, parking close to the door.

Lorelai ducked down to see out at the building, then swung her head around to stare at him. "Astro Burger? Seriously? Astro Burger?" She shook her head. "Is it like out of the Jetsons? Is Rosie the Robot the cook?"

"It's my favorite place," he reminded her.

"Really."

"Come on. Give it a try," he cajoled her. "I'm guessing you're a burger and fry type of gal."

He had no idea. "Sometimes," she mumbled, the best she could do under the circumstances.

He ushered her inside, giving her a hurried history lesson about Greek immigrants and pastrami and the world's most awesome hamburgers.

"OK, OK," she finally capitulated. "You've convinced me." She gazed again at the huge menu board. "Why don't you just order something for me?" she suggested.

"You'll love it," he said convincingly. With an air of assurance he placed their order.

He was right. The food was great. She gobbled down her hamburger covered with pastrami. She had to try all of the dipping sauces with the French fries. And just when she thought she couldn't eat another bite, Daniel came back with a cup of rice pudding and a black raspberry milkshake.

She was relaxed and comfortable and pleasantly full. They felt like old friends, and she was loving listening to his stories about growing up with his three sisters. As an only child, any stories about siblings held her in thrall.

"Well, this was back when parents weren't as picky about leaving their kids to fend for themselves. My Mom had gone back to work, and Mary was supposed to be watching the rest of us."

"She's the oldest sister?" Lorelai asked, sucking down some more milkshake.

"Yep. About two years older than me. Anyway, this was the summer our roof held the spell of the forbidden over her. Every time you turned around, she was coming up with another reason to go out on the roof."

"Why?"

"Who knows?" Daniel shrugged. "All I know is I'd be down in the basement, the only cool spot in the house, trying to watch old 'Batman' reruns, and here'd come my little sisters, screaming that Mary was stuck on the roof again."

"How'd she get up there?"

"A ladder," Daniel sighed.

Lorelai frowned, not following. "But if she had a ladder ―"

"She had a ladder, but she was terrified to step back on it to get down. She'd clamber right up there with no problem, and grab the Frisbee or the errant newspaper or a cat, or whatever she went up there for, but then she'd chicken out about climbing back down."

Lorelai was still shaking her head. "But why didn't you ―"

"Because my Dad would've walloped the daylights out me. Ladder climbing and roof sitting were strictly prohibited. I was limited to standing there and trying to convince her to take that first step to get back on the ladder."

She started to giggle. "How many times did this happen?"

"Over and over and over. The whole summer." He shook his head. "We provided the amusement for the rest of the neighborhood. My littlest sister, with the nervous stomach, would invariably end up throwing up in the bushes. The dog would get excited and run around and around the house, eventually veering out into the street just in time to trip the paper boy. And meanwhile, Mary would just stand there on top of the roof, her hands crossed over her chest and looking like this …" He crossed his own arms and made his face into the perfect picture of a worried, scared, defiant teenage girl.

Lorelai laughed. She could picture the whole scene with his excellent theatrics and vivid storytelling. She laughed a real laugh, one that came from deep in her belly; one that left her breathless with a few tears squeezing from her eyes. For a minute she laughed and was happy. For a minute she completely forgot about that woman who cheated on her fiancé. For a minute all of the regret and sadness that still clung to her like lint fell away. She was happy. For a moment.

And then the guilt of betrayal slashed through her, sharper than any of Sookie's knives. She didn't realize she'd jumped to her feet until she felt Daniel's hands on her wrists, trying to ease her back down.

"This isn't right," she babbled to him. "I can't do this. I shouldn't be here!"

"Hey, hey. Come on. It's OK," he said, his voice gentle and soothing. "Come on, sit down. Tell me what's wrong. Was it the pastrami?"

She sat back down abruptly, realizing she was making a scene. She couldn't stop twisting the ring on her finger.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just ― I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He carefully folded her hands into his. "What are you sorry about?" he asked. "You've done nothing wrong." His voice was certain.

She bit at her lip. "I've done everything wrong."

He caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. "Tell me."

She shuddered as she tried to take a breath. "I was ― I was engaged."

"I saw," he said, softly touching her finger. "I wondered."

She refused to let the tears take over again. She'd worked too hard to banish them. "It didn't work out. And I thought maybe I could try going out again. But I can't. I've led you on, I think. I'm so sorry." She hung her head, feeling raw and ashamed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No." That answer was emphatic.

"OK." He nodded, not pressing. "But you didn't lead me on. Don't worry about that."

She looked at him, exasperated.

"Well...OK," he admitted, easily. "So I'm a guy. And yeah, sure, of course I envisioned a couple of different endings for this night. But," and here he held a stern finger up, "I'm a _nice_ guy, damn it. God knows, I've tried not to be, but I just can't help it. Niceness is inbred in me. Goes along with that All-American glow. Even if you would have thrown yourself at me, I probably would have turned you down. Probably. But my point is, I've had a lot of fun with you tonight. We've had a great time, right? That's all that counts. This night has already met all of my expectations."

"You are a nice guy." She sat there, her head bowed. She swallowed hard, fighting against the words that wanted to spill out of her. For some reason she felt like talking. For some reason she felt that if she explained it to him, maybe it would finally make sense to her.

"Luke's a nice guy too. That's his name. Luke. He's gruff, and he's got this exaggerated sense of right and wrong that leads to a lot of yelling sometimes, but he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met." She paused, taking in the biggest breath she could hold. "I think that's why it hurt so much when he turned me out of his life. I mean, how awful was I that this nice guy treated me the way he did?"

"Even nice guys can get confused," Daniel offered.

"He wasn't confused. He knew exactly what he wanted and it wasn't me."

"Look, Lorelai." Daniel appeared to be weighing his words carefully. "If he's made you this sad, I don't think he's as nice of a guy as you think he is."

She had so many years of knowing Luke that it was easy, sometimes, to skip over the last painful one. She could pick and choose the memories. "No, he's nice. He's one of the unbelievably nice ones," she said confidently. "I'm the one who was horrible."

Daniel sighed and pushed up from the table.

"Where are you going?" she asked, already feeling abandoned.

"I'm going to go get us some coffee." He shrugged. "It kind of seems like you want to talk, and if you do, coffee always helps. And if you don't want to talk, that's OK, too. When we get done with our coffee, I'll take you downtown to Temple Square and tell you all about the angel Moroni."

"Is there someplace there I can confess my sins?" she asked, only half-joking.

"Nope, but I was raised Catholic. I know all about granting absolution." He gave her a sympathetic smile as he turned to go back to the counter.

"You're too nice for your own good, Daniel," she called after him.

"Don't I know it," he muttered.

* * *

_So it's true_, Lorelai thought, as she crashed through the front door into the Crapshack, _there is no place like home._

She dropped the suitcases and bags to the floor and just stood there for a moment, breathing in the warm, musty air of home. After another minute she raced around the ground floor, opening all of the windows and turning on fans to make a breeze.

Upstairs she pulled off her wrinkled travel clothes and put on a pair of old, soft shorts and a tank top printed with little flowers. She went into the bathroom and used a clip to gather her hair up off her neck. She washed off every bit of the grimy makeup from her face.

Feeling more human, she bounced back downstairs. More out of habit than anything else, she pulled open the refrigerator and studied the lonely bottles of condiments in the door, because unfortunately she knew there wasn't much else in there.

Another turn through the rooms and she was ready to have Paul Anka come home. She grabbed the phone. This time she wasn't as unnerved when he answered.

"Hi, Luke. It's me. Lorelai. I wanted to let you know that I'm back home, so anytime that you want to drop Paul Anka off, I'll be here, OK?"

"I'm pretty swamped here," he said, sounding harried. "Caesar's off today. You'll need to just come here and get him. I've got all of his stuff ready to go."

"Oh, Luke, I don't think ―"

"I'll see you when you get here."

And just like that, she was holding the phone, listening to nothing but a dial tone as her stomach started to churn. All of the confidence she'd built up over the course of her trip vanished.

She tried to come up with a plan. Maybe she could call the Dragonfly and dispatch one the porters to go get him. Maybe...Maybe Babette was there, and she could bring him home. Maybe she could call him back and say she was in no hurry, and just bring him home whenever he had time. She'd wait. No problem.

She shook her head. She couldn't do any of those things. She was going to have to go get him, or otherwise Luke would know. He'd know that she was too scared to step into the diner.

Doom hung heavy over her head as she raced back upstairs. She pulled off the comfortable shorts and top she'd just put on. She found an orange sundress with yellow polka dots that she remembered he'd been fond of during the previous summer. She hurried into the bathroom and smoothed makeup back over her face. She brushed out her curls. She slicked on some lip gloss, felt ridiculous, and wiped it off. She pushed her feet into some sandals with big yellow flowers over her toes.

Halfway down the stairs she turned around. She ran back into the bathroom and put on the lip gloss after all.

She was shaking as she got into the Jeep. She knew she had to go. If she took any longer, he'd know she was dragging her heels. She had no choice. She had to get there.

She parked the Jeep down the street from the diner. Getting out of it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Then she walked across the street and realized that was even harder. Her feet carried her up the steps. Her hand was on the doorknob. Somehow she managed to tap into a little reservoir of strength. Her hand turned the knob and she stepped inside.

At first she wasn't aware of anything but the roaring in her ears. Then something warm and fuzzy ran into her legs.

"Paul Anka!" She dropped down, thankful to have something to distract her from her nerves. "How are you, boy? Did you miss me? You look cute! Have you been a good boy?"

Paul Anka happily accepted her hugs. Then he turned and trotted back to a small rug positioned just to the side of the counter, pushed back far enough to be out of the way.

Her eyes went to the counter, where Luke was standing, watching her. Somewhere, mixed in with all of the uproar in her head, it dawned on her that he didn't actually look too busy.

Force of habit made her feet carry her towards the counter.

Reverend Skinner and his wife called out a greeting to her. Bootsy commented that she looked hot. She was grateful that no one seemed to be making a fuss over the fact that she was in the diner again.

Luke grabbed a mug and set it in front of him. "Welcome back," he said quietly, as he filled it with coffee.

She gulped, realizing she was going to have to sit there and drink it. "Thanks. It's good to be home," she answered as calmly as she could, remembering how to climb onto a stool.

He paused, looking a little flustered. "Well, I meant welcome back here. But welcome home, too." He rushed on. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yeah, really good," she nodded, trying hard to smile. "How was Paul Anka?"

"He was fine," Luke said dismissively. "Once he understood that I wasn't going to coddle him, we got along just fine."

Lorelai wanted to ask if trips in the truck and getting to stay in the diner didn't constitute coddling, but she wasn't sure if he knew April had been in contact with her. She clamped her lips back closed.

"How's the second job?" he asked, looking like the words tasted sour to him.

"Good." She felt her face turn sunnier as she bobbed her head. "They like me. They really like me!" she bragged a little, giggling. "They really admired my reports," she said, more seriously. "They said I made good eyes and ears for them, and now they don't feel like they have to go at all. They have a whole list of places they want me to check out next."

"Well, good, I guess," he said hesitantly. She could tell he wanted to be supportive, but it was going against his nature. "So does that mean you're going to be gone a lot?"

She shook her head. "Not more than once a month, and no more long trips. I can't be away from the Dragonfly that much."

He'd started rubbing at the counter with the cloth, his old habit. "But you liked it," he surmised.

She shrugged. "It made me remember the old dreams I had as a teenager. I always thought I'd travel the world." She waited for him to look at her, then smiled softly at him. "Didn't you ever wish you could leave this nosy little gossip mill sometimes?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I guess maybe. Sometimes."

"There's a real allure to going someplace new; someplace where no one knows you. Being able to start all over again. That's what I had when I first came here. The idea of being someplace where no one knows your mistakes is really tempting."

"How tempting?" he asked gruffly. The counter was getting polished to a high gloss.

"Not that tempting," she admitted, still smiling. "But it is so beautiful out there. There are mountains, Luke, mountains! Everywhere you look, just mountains and more mountains standing there all gorgeous and mountain-y! And, I don't know, but somehow the air just feels different. The sky is a whole different color of blue. It's just fun to experience something new."

He'd stopped the compulsive polishing and was looking off to the side. "Dean said one time that Stars Hollow wouldn't ever be enough for you and Rory." His voice had a harshness to it.

"Dean?" She was flabbergasted. "Why would Dean ever say something like that?"

He shrugged, not willing to talk about it. "Don't know. Kid was bitter over losing Rory, I guess." He pointed at her cup. "Drink your coffee," he suggested, and moved away.

She looked down at the mug sitting in front of her. She hadn't touched it or even breathed in deeply enough to send the scent through her lungs. She braced herself to pick it up. To take a sip. She could do this. Of course she could. It was just coffee.

Her hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them as she tried to lift up the mug. They shook and she couldn't control them. He'd filled the mug right up to the brim, just as he always used to, and the piping hot liquid sloshed over her fingers and down onto the counter.

She gave a yelp of pain, more from the memories she was trying to suppress than actual hurt.

He was there at once, his rag mopping up the mess she'd made.

When he wiped over her fingers she latched onto his hand. She couldn't look at him, but she couldn't let go. She was afraid she was hurting him, so tightly was she hanging on, but she didn't dare let go.

"I didn't...I didn't do it on purpose," she managed to say, her voice quavering.

"I know that," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "You might be a klutz sometimes, but you're not malicious."

"No. I don't...I don't mean the coffee." She still couldn't look at him. She gripped his fingers even tighter, so scared he'd walk away. "I mean...I mean that night."

She could tell by the way his breathing changed that he understood what night she meant. She chanced glancing up at him; her heart shrinking as she saw the dead look on his face.

"On the plane, I kept thinking about it," she began in a rush. "I kept thinking about it from the way it probably looked to you, and I need you to know that I didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't some grand master plan to get back at you. I know it probably seems to you like I did it deliberately to hurt you; to slap you in the face, but I didn't. I didn't! I was barely functioning at all that night, Luke. I didn't have enough brain power to come up with some sort of scheme for revenge."

Gripping his fingers was the only thing holding her together. She gulped. "I never meant to hurt you," she whispered, staring down at her lap.

He pulled his fingers away and she tried to stay strong enough to let him go. Her head was too heavy to look up at him.

She couldn't believe it when she felt his hand close over hers before she could snatch it from off the counter. He rubbed it gently, and she finally found the will to raise her head. He bent his knees, bringing his eyes down level with hers.

She couldn't look away from his eyes. They were as blue as the Utah sky, but still filled with pain, and for the first time she understood why the color blue had come to symbolize sadness.

He squeezed her hand again, almost a caress. "For what it's worth, Lorelai, I didn't mean to hurt you, either."

She nodded, believing him. He patted her hand one last time, self-consciously now, and straightened up, moving away.

She went back to staring at her lap, too agonized to look up again.

Something scraped over the wooden counter. When she glanced up, a piece of boysenberry pie sat in front of her, steam rising up from the mound of ice cream melting on top of it.

"On the house," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Welcome back."

Grateful tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. "Thank you," she whispered, and picked up her fork.


	3. Relapse

**A/N:** A big hug to **Jewels** for her love and encouragement and awesome comma-fighting skills.

* * *

_The doctor braced himself before he stepped through the swinging doors and it turned out his instincts were correct. His patient's family fell on him at once._

_"What is going on here?" the father demanded. "We thought she'd passed this point months ago!"_

_"It's like we're right back where we started! It's like you've done nothing at all!" the mother shrilly admonished him._

_"I informed you of this when we first started treatment," the doctor reminded them firmly. "I told you that the chance of relapse is always a possibility. That's why we've been building up her strength, to give her something to fall back on in case this happened."_

_The father snorted in derision. "How farsighted of you, to build failure into your treatment plan."_

_"We haven't failed," the doctor snapped. "This is a setback, that's all. Give her some time to stabilize. Give her some time to put the pieces back together."_

_The mother tossed her head. "Very well; we will. That gives us time to solicit a second opinion. How fortunate for us."_

_The doctor watched them stride off with a sigh. Only as he turned to go back through the doors did he notice the young woman sitting quietly in the chair._

_"Do you want to yell at me too?" he asked her kindly._

_She shook her head, her slight smile doing nothing to dispel the sadness on her face. "She looks like she's hurting. Is it hurting her again?"_

_"Yes," he admitted, as gently as he could._

_She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't want her hurting anymore."_

_He squatted down beside her chair. He took a moment to think through what he wanted to say. "I can help her to get better," he said slowly. "But I can't do it without the pain. I know that doesn't make any sense. But the pain is actually helping. The pain is forcing her to make choices, and those choices are making her better. Today isn't so much a setback as it is a detour. She'll get back on track again. Can you see that? Can you see how much she has improved, despite this?"_

_Her sigh seemed to be pulled up from her toes. "Yes," she said, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She tilted her head thoughtfully, and the doctor waited for her question. But instead, she almost smiled._

_"You know, you do kind of look like George Clooney."_

_He grinned. "Your mother tells me that all the time."_

* * *

It was a glorious fall. Probably the most spectacular one seen in Connecticut in the past decade. The leaves were all crisp crimson and a burnished gold that flamed to perfection in front of a deep sapphire sky. The temperature was ideal, hovering in the mid-seventies each day. Rain stayed away and the foliage clung persistently to the branches.

Tourists clogged Stars Hollow's streets. They drank up all of the cider that the mill could crank out. They ate up every burger that Luke could flip. They called and stopped by the Dragonfly, trying to wheedle a place to stay so that they could bask in the picturesque fall scenery for just one more day.

Lorelai and the rest of the staff at the Dragonfly were being run ragged. She'd had to rearrange a prospective trip for the Durham Group as she dealt with the mass of leaf peepers demanding rooms. Their work schedules had been hijacked as they all pitched in to cover the hours.

One Thursday afternoon Lorelai had a few hours to spend at home. She was going to have to go back and help out with the evening shift, but she was looking forward to collapsing on the couch and maybe sneaking in a nap as she pretended to watch a movie. If she felt extra-motivated, maybe she'd toss a load into the washing machine before she crashed on the couch.

As she eased herself down on the lumpy cushions, clutching a pillow to her, she was thankful it was already the second week in October. The leaves would be gone soon, and as much as her bank account loved having the Dragonfly booked to full capacity, it would be a relief to get back to a normal schedule.

Just as she started to fish around on the coffee table for the remote, her cell started to buzz. Her stomach gave a lurch and her feet hit the floor as she glanced at the number showing on the display.

She flipped the phone open as she brought it up to her ear. "Did you hit the wrong number?"

She heard Luke's deep chuckle. "No, I knew who I was callin'."

She nodded, even as she realized he couldn't see her. This was weird; really weird. Her welcome back pie in the diner had begun a new phase for them. They were cordial and friendly, and sometimes even slipped back into the quasi-insulting banter that had once been a staple for them. She stopped by the diner maybe three times a week, careful, however, to never sit intimately at the counter if at all possible. He insisted that Paul Anka stay with him when she was out of town and she'd even made a joke about them sharing custody. But they were still cautious, still leery about whatever this 'friend' thing was now between them. And whatever it was, it didn't include spontaneous phone calls just to shoot the breeze.

"Did you want to talk to Paul Anka?" she asked next.

The dog lying on the floor beside her raised his head to look at her.

He paused, making her nerves twist tighter. "No, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Oh." Her fingers were pulling apprehensively at a loose thread on the pillow. "Well, ask away."

He cleared his throat and her anxiety bunched up even more as she realized he was nervous, too.

"I was wondering if you'd go with me to look at a house." His voice lacked the confidence she remembered as his trademark.

"A house?" she asked, needing something to say while her brain scrambled over his request.

"Yeah. There's a house over on Walnut that's for sale. The listing sounds good, and I know to look at the foundation and the window casings and the plumbing under the sinks, but I don't know girl stuff."

Breath caught in her throat and hurt as she held it there. "Girl stuff?" she asked after she'd exhaled. "Like sequins and glossy pink?"

"Whatever it is that women need in a house. You know. Whatever it is that makes a house a…a home," he finished up, sounding totally embarrassed.

"Frilly curtains?" she parried, not sure that she was up to this. In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn't. Her heart was already icing over at just the thought of looking at a house that she'd never share with him.

"It's just, you're really good at this," he said, and she could tell by the lack of background noise that he'd stepped into somewhere private. "I remember when you looked at that apartment with me. You spotted all sorts of things I didn't because you were looking for different things. I really don't want to screw this up. So would you go with me? Please?"

Her eyes squeezed shut. Sure. Of course he didn't want to screw up anything with April. She swallowed down her jealousy.

"Well, since you said please."

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not?" She threw the pillow, like caution, to the floor.

"I called the Dragonfly first, and they said you weren't there. Are you home?"

"Yeah," she said, ignoring with determination the way her throat automatically closed up on hearing him call her house home. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'll swing by and pick you up in a couple of minutes then," he told her.

* * *

She was no longer that woman who didn't see the big picture. Now she was the compulsive over-thinker who was playing the upcoming chess match out in her head. It was better, she'd learned, to always be prepared.

For example, today she started walking to the end of her drive as soon as she heard the truck. That way as soon as he pulled in she could reach for the door handle. No opportunity for him to get out and help her in. One potential awkward situation nipped in the bud. Umpteen-thousand yet to go.

Their conversation was stilted at first. It always was. It took them awhile to find their rhythm again. In the age of 'before' she would have just spouted the first thing that crossed her mind, but in this new era she practiced caution.

"So you're still looking at houses, huh?"

"Yeah." He shook his head slightly as he shifted gears. "I can't find anything that seems to fit."

She paused, weighing her words. "You know, April doesn't really want to leave the diner."

"I know," he admitted. "But ever since you mentioned it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. I keep thinking that if we just find the perfect place, she'll fall in love with it."

"Maybe," Lorelai agreed feebly, not wanting to derail his hopes.

They drove in silence for a few moments. Luke glanced over at her and then looked away, almost shyly. "I almost called you last night."

"Oh?" She couldn't imagine why.

She watched the skin over his cheekbones stretch as he tried to hold back a glowing smile. "April wanted me to go to a thing at her school. I'd taken her down to Mystic right after school started. She took a slew of pictures and turned 'em into ―" He frowned. "Not slides. What d'ya call it?"

"Powerpoint?" Lorelai suggested.

"That's it." He nodded. "She wrote up a report about how it's important to remember the past, and she threw in some marine biology and oceanography stuff, too, and her teachers liked it so much they showed it last night at Back to School Night. They're going to submit it to some sort of statewide contest that the PTA sponsors."

"Oh, Luke!" She was genuinely thrilled and beaming just as brightly as he was. "That's fantastic! How proud are you, huh?"

He grinned and ducked his head modestly. "But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

"There's more?" she teased. "What? She got a book deal out of it? Spielberg is calling?"

"Afterwards, the halls were packed. I couldn't find her right away, you know? Then I heard someone yell 'Dad!'" His jaw tensed as he battled emotion for a moment. "It was her," he explained unnecessarily, his voice thick. "It was April, shouting for me."

She watched her hand fly up to his shoulder, where it gave him an understanding squeeze before she yanked it back and glared at it. "That's wonderful, Luke. That must have made you so happy," she said, making her voice as gentle as possible.

He looked like he'd unearthed buried treasure.

"You know, you can call me anytime with news like that," she assured him.

He nodded then looked at her purposely. "I know April emails you."

Worry skittered over her. "Not often," she protested, prepared to defend herself.

"There's nothing wrong with it," he said at once, attempting to be soothing. "I think it's a good thing. She looks forward to hearing from you."

Her nerves stepped down from DEFCON 2. She bit at her thumbnail. "I've been…torn about it. I like hearing from her, too, but I've been worried about Anna's reaction."

"Don't worry about Anna." His voice was firm. "We've taken care of Anna. April and I sat her down and got some things cleared up. I let her know that if you're a part of my life, you're going to be a part of April's life." He looked proud and nodded his head authoritatively.

She attempted to look pleased, too, even though grief and an irritated chorus of '_Now_ you do that?' churned through her.

"Well, good," she said weakly. "I'm glad that's taken care of, then."

They stopped in front of the house with the for sale sign. Lorelai jumped out and used her long legs to power towards the front door, once again avoiding his customary door-opening.

"This is really nice," she threw back at him as she hopped up the ample concrete steps to the porch that ran the width of the house. It was a well-cared-for Craftsman-style bungalow, sided with dark brown shingles and moss-green trim. "This porch is great." She inclined her head towards the one side. "You could have a swing over there. Great place to sit and gossip with Eastside Tillie. She just lives down at the corner."

"Sure," Luke said distractedly. He was busy testing the porch floor for loose boards or any weak spots.

"Good afternoon." They both jumped when Brian emerged from the front door. Lorelai stopped herself just in time from gaping at him. His shoulders seemed broader in the golden jacket. "It's good to see the two of you," he said, sounding professionally friendly, and Lorelai wondered when that had happened. When had he transformed into an adult?

"Hey, Brian," she said, waving.

He smiled at her and then stepped to Luke, handing him a folder. "This house is a real gem. The current owners have taken care of it with love. Here's the details, square footage, room dimensions, and everything else." He turned again to Lorelai. "I'm going to go sit in my car and catch up on some paperwork, let you go through the house at your own pace. I find most prospective clients appreciate that. But if you have any questions at all, you come and get me, OK?"

"Thanks, Brian." She was so busy watching him that Luke got to the door first. She forced a smile as he held it open for her.

Then she forgot everything as she turned around and around in the magazine-worthy living room. Two large windows faced the porch, while two small ones high up on the western wall bathed the wood trim in perfect golden light from the late afternoon rays. "Oh," she breathed out, completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere. "This is nice, Luke. Really nice. Look at the natural woodwork in here!"

"Hmm," he grunted, frowning as he looked over the space with a critical eye.

Lorelai was enchanted with the room. "There's no fireplace, but look at these bookcases!" She walked over and stood beside the built-ins flanking the entrance to the rest of the house. Her hand lightly ran over the assortment of books and keepsakes displayed on a shelf. "April would love these, huh?"

"Yeah," he said, but she could tell he was mostly concerned with structural issues. She watched as he glanced at the statistics page Brian had given him and then paced off the length of the room.

Smiling to herself, she let him concentrate and walked over to where the sunlight was beaming in from the high windows. She tipped her face and closed her eyes, letting the yellow October rays bathe her in the soothing warmth.

When she opened them again she found Luke watching her, a look on his face that she couldn't readily identify. They both shied away at once, as though looking at each other was something of which they should be ashamed.

Lorelai swiftly headed for the passage between the bookshelves. "Let's see if the rest of the house measures up," she said.

She stopped at the first doorway, confusion crossing her face. "What do you think this is? Dining room?"

Luke peered over her shoulder. "Maybe."

She entered and looked around. The current owners had the room half-full of moving boxes. Obviously they were getting prepared to vacate the home quickly.

"I think dining room," she decreed. She moved to the side wall. "See? It's a built-in buffet. Really pretty, too."

Luke stepped in, his eyes taking in the dimensions of the space. "Do you think a table would fit in here?"

"Yeah, I do. It's just deceiving with all of the boxes." She was pulling open the drawers in the built-in. She straightened up and turned around to face him. "Of course, you wouldn't have to use it as a dining room. Maybe you'd want to use it like a den, or a home office. It might be a nice place for April to do homework. This could work as a good place for a computer," she said, patting the buffet.

Luke nodded, studying the layout thoughtfully. "It might work," he agreed.

Anxious to see the rest of the house, she pushed past him and walked down the short hall to the kitchen.

"Uh-oh," she said at once. "This might be the deal breaker right here."

"What's wrong?" he asked, right on her heels.

"It doesn't really match the rest of the house." Lorelai was busy examining the room. "I wonder if it was remodeled at some point. It kind of screams 'disco,' don't you think?" She pulled on a cabinet door. "These are just sad. And it's tiny. Don't you think it's tiny? I mean, you'd want a nice big kitchen, wouldn't you? Or maybe you wouldn't. Maybe you don't want a kitchen at all, after cooking all day at the diner." She couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth any more than she could stop herself from flying around the kitchen and pulling open drawers. She had to keep talking so that the words uppermost in her head didn't accidentally come spilling out: _If I'd let you change the kitchen at the Crapshack, would you have stayed? If I'd let you more into my life, would you have let me into yours?_

Luke was in the middle of the room now, his arms bunched at his sides as he studied it from corner to corner. "It's not that bad," he decided. He moved to the counter along the back wall and stretched his arms out as far as he could reach. "It's still more counter space than I have right now in the apartment."

"You could remodel, if you wanted to," Lorelai suggested.

"Sure." He squatted down to pull open the doors under the sink. He looked natural and completely at home, and Lorelai fled down the small connecting hallway to the rooms on the other side of the house to get away from the sight.

She poked her head into the first bedroom. It wasn't large, but it was a decent size, and it had another of the high rectangular windows on the western wall. The large brass bed fit with plenty of room on either side of it. She admired the pattern on the area rug that partially covered the dark wood floor.

She strolled inside and looked around, curious about the people living here. A large gilt-framed picture caught her eye over an armoire, and she stepped closer to examine it. Phantom icy hands squeezed the air out of her lungs when she beheld the happy bride and groom in the photo. She was already stumbling backwards towards the door when she realized that it was the bride's desiccated bouquet on display underneath the photo.

"That's what you get for being nosy," she chastised herself.

"What?" Luke asked, as she nearly ran over him in the doorway.

"Check the closet space," she ordered him, carefully stepping by. "Make sure it's enough. Wouldn't want the flannels to be all bunched up."

She took two steps down the hall until she could grab the doorframe into the next room. It was a small bathroom, the walls covered in the tiny ceramic tiles that were once again coming into favor. The floor had the same tiles in a black and white checkerboard pattern. Several of them were chipped or missing, but the overall look of the room was authentically vintage and quite satisfactory.

Pleased, Lorelai continued to the last bedroom. One peek inside made her gasp. The room forced her to step inside; she really had no option.

It looked like someone had sprayed the contents of a bottle of Pepto-Bismol on the walls. To say it was pink was like saying Stars Hollow was a little quirky. In this room, pink was not just a detail of design. It was a lifestyle choice.

She looked at the toddler bed, the headboard of which was cleverly designed to function as a dollhouse. A magenta feather boa hung from one post, a pair of gossamer fairy wings from another. A small table in the corner was laid out with a lavender tea set, obviously just waiting for the teddy bears to come and dine. Books were scattered around a rocking chair by the bed. Lorelai smiled, almost sadly, when she spied _Goodnight Moon._

She heard his boots clomping down the hall. "Lorelai, I don't know how much closet space is supposed to be enough," he complained as he stepped into the room. She heard him stop abruptly. "Wow," he said, slowly looking around.

"The room's not very big," she said, her voice coming out hushed, as though the room's little occupant was already asleep in bed. "But if April's only here one or two nights a week, it should be fine. You'll probably want to repaint it, though," she added, once again preparing to duck away from him and the hopes she'd once harbored.

For some reason she paused at the door. She looked back. She watched as he stepped further into the room, his face reflecting what she thought was confusion. She understood that. What did he know of tiny pink ballerinas and pretend tea parties?

But then his rough hand reached out and experimentally touched the feather boa lassoed around the post. She saw the regret etch itself into the lines around his mouth. Her heart contracted and her own discomfort was cast off while she moved back to stand beside him.

"I'm sorry," she said, this time giving her hand permission to sympathetically rub at his shoulder. Her voice was still just above a whisper in volume. "I'm so sorry you missed all of this with April."

"No, that's not …" He trailed off as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I'm sorry I missed that, sure. But I'm glad I'm getting to know her now. But that's not ―" He turned towards her and pulled himself together. "Never mind," he grumbled.

She looked at him curiously, at the same time thankful, she thought, that he'd cut himself off. She nodded and headed again for the door.

"Wait."

The diminutive size of everything in the room made him seem even taller as he stood there, one thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans. He looked around again at the essential little-girlness of the room before his eyes came back to her.

"I wasn't thinking about April." He shook his head, apparently still disagreeing with the words about to come out of his mouth. "I was thinking about how I always thought I was going to get to do this with you."

She put as much of herself as possible behind a barricade in her heart and then turned the numb side out. "That would have been nice." Her voice was amazingly calm.

"Would it?" He looked at her sharply. "It seems to me that was a big part of our problem. We talked all the time about everything except what was actually important. Like kids. How long was that conversation? Maybe 30 seconds?"

"'Kids would be nice,'" she remembered.

"But is that how you really felt?" he challenged her.

"Maybe not right at that moment," she admitted. "I was crazed over Rory and everything was moving so fast with us that kids were the last thing I wanted to think about. But in the future? Sure. That would've been great."

Something about her voice was a little too pat. She was holding herself aloof and he felt it.

"Forget it," he said curtly. "I thought maybe we could learn to really talk now, but it doesn't matter. Water under the bridge, right? Let's go." He marched to the doorway.

That's what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted this conversation to end. She wanted to forget all of the 'what ifs' that had swirled down the drain. She didn't want to open herself up to the disappointments again.

"There was one time I thought maybe I was pregnant." Her voice shocked them both.

He stopped dead. "You didn't tell me?" he asked, appalled.

"It wasn't like that." She moved over to the table and fingered one of the plastic teacups. "I knew I wasn't. I knew I couldn't be. It was just this …" She tried to come up with the right words to explain. "It was a fantasy, for a few hours. It was just something that I sort of wished for. So I did want it, Luke, just not right then."

"But you would have told me?" he asked, still anxious for clarification.

"Well, I think you would have caught on when you couldn't see my feet for my stomach."

"Lorelai!" He was fuming, not amused.

"By the next time I saw you, I already had gotten my period. It wasn't like I was keeping anything from you. It was just a little game of pretend for a little bit. We hadn't even been together for that long at the time."

He looked at her speculatively. "When was this?"

Despite her best efforts, a small, satisfied smile was playing over her lips. "After that night in the limo."

"Oh." To her surprise, that same smile settled on his mouth. He glanced down at the floor, and when he looked back up, the only thing she could think about his expression was that it made him look sexy as hell. "That _would_ be the only thing that could've topped that night," he suggested, his eyes dancing.

"Oh, yeah," she agreed, actually grinning back at him. "A pop-up pregnancy would have been the perfect souvenir."

For a few moments the warmth from their shared memory thawed the tension in the room. Instead of ducking away in embarrassment, it drew them closer.

"I wouldn't have minded," he said, his voice as soft as she'd ever heard it.

Scenes from the past year flashed through her brain so fast she felt dizzy. What a difference it would have made if her apple craving had been based in reality. How much things would have been altered if they'd been married and she hadn't been able to see her feet when April had biked over to the diner for the first time.

"I wouldn't have minded, either," she told him from her heart.

His face turned regretful again. "We should have talked about this."

She nodded. "If we had, then you would have known what I was thinking. Instead, I just assumed you knew."

He rubbed a knuckle over his mouth. "I wish ―"

"Hey, folks!" Brian poked his head into the room and once again they both jumped. "How do you like the house so far?"

Luke shot him a dirty look, but Lorelai managed to smile. "It's a great place, Brian. Why are the people moving?"

"They're expecting their second child. They need a bigger place," he explained.

"Hope it's a boy," Lorelai murmured to Luke with a wink, and then she followed Brian out to see the back yard.

"This is incredible," she said, stepping out onto a huge deck. A pergola sheltering the western edge was still covered with green morning glory vines. "This is worth the whole price of the house, right out here."

She clattered down the three wooden steps into the lush backyard. It seemed to stretch forever. She cut across the grass to a small shed tucked along the property line.

"Luke! Luke, come here!" she shrieked, as soon as she looked through a window into the building. She could not contain her excitement. "It's perfect!"

He took his time getting to her. He looked at her suspiciously before he bent to peer in through the window. "It's a workshop," he stated matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes it is, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud! A workshop! Who's always wanted a workshop, huh?"

A small smile worked over his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders, continuing to stare inside.

"Admit it, Luke. It's perfect. It's like it was set up for you." She inclined her head towards the rest of the yard. "You're all private and isolated back here, tucked away from the nosy neighbors. You've got your man cave to escape to back here. You've got a deck to put a grill on and kick back with a beer. It's pretty damn perfect."

He looked around the perimeter thoughtfully. "It's the best thing I've seen, that's for sure."

They took a few more minutes to look around. Luke asked Brian some questions and told him he'd maybe like to bring April by over the weekend to see her reaction. Soon they said goodbye and were back in the truck.

"So. What are your thoughts?" Lorelai asked at once.

"Not bad. There were a lot of things I really liked. I guess it all boils down to what April thinks."

Lorelai nodded but her thoughts were already leaping far ahead. "Do you see yourself living there forever, or just until April goes to college?"

His forehead crinkled. "Forever, I guess."

"Well then, you might want someplace bigger."

He quickly turned to stare at her. "Why? Once April moves out I wouldn't even need that much room."

Her fingernails pressed into her palms as she pushed herself to open up. If they were really going to talk, if she was really going to be his friend, she needed to start telling him what she thought. "Luke, chances are you're not going to be alone by the time April goes to college. It might be better if you find a house now that will fit your life later."

"Are you implying ―" He bit back the rest of the words as he stared straight out through the windshield. "You're insane."

She sighed. "No, I'm not. You know there are a dozen women who'd throw themselves at your feet right now. Someday you'll trip over the right one. You might as well be prepared for it."

He snorted with contempt as he forced the truck around a turn. "You want to examine my track record? Rachel, Anna, Nicole? You? No thank you," he said bitingly. "I think I'm sitting on the bench from here on out."

She straightened her fingers out over her skirt and studied them. The diamond sparkled back at her like a laser, surgically incising the skin right over her heart. "You shouldn't close yourself off," she ventured. "You don't know what might happen yet. You could date someone that's ―"

"No." His adamant voice tried to shut her down.

"Luke." She was giving this her all. "You don't know that. I mean, I…I tried," she admitted.

"Tried what?"

"Dating." She watched his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "While I was in Utah. I…dated."

"Oh?" He looked grim. "And how'd that go for you?"

"It was great." She was bobbing her head. "We had a really good time." She drew in a breath and looked down at her hands again. "I freaked out in the middle of the restaurant and begged him to take me home," she admitted. Her head jerked up when she heard him give a wry chuckle.

"Yeah, I tried that too."

Something molten and suffocating was slithering through her chest. "You? You went on a date?" It was one thing to suggest generically that he should date so he wouldn't be alone and quite another to find out he'd actually done it. There was no way she could keep the shrill note of panic out of her voice. "Who? Who did you date?"

"April's swim coach. She engineered it, so I didn't think I could say no." He met her eye and smiled, like they were comrades-in-arms. "It was awful beyond words."

"Well, good. I mean, that's too bad. I mean…" She stopped to take a breath while everything went spinning in her head. "I still don't think you should shut down that possibility," she ventured, wanting to cut her tongue out.

They'd made it to the house and Luke turned off the truck. "I won't say never. I'm old enough to know you should never say that. But it's not going to happen now. I need more time." He looked over at her and seemed to calculate something. "Probably we both do."

She took a moment to pull herself together and that was all the time he needed to come around the truck to open her door. So much for her avoidance dance.

He walked with her to the front door because she couldn't think of any way to tell him not to without sounding incredibly rude.

"Well, good luck with the house," she said, trying to put as much sincerity into the words as possible. She opened the door, hoping he'd get the message to leave.

Instead he was examining the shutters and the front window on the porch. "These need to be caulked before winter," he muttered, running his finger over the sill. He stepped over to the edge of the house and felt the siding. "These boards are loose again over here, too. Why don't I come over on Saturday and do some winterizing for you?"

"Oh, Luke, no ―" she started.

"It's no problem," he insisted. "I mean, how many times have I done it? It'll just take me a couple of hours and then you'll be set."

"I don't ―" she tried again.

"You don't even need to be here," he added. "It'll be all done when you get home." He nodded, satisfied, and headed back to the truck. "Thanks for coming with me today."

She waved back at him curtly. "Sure."

She slammed the door behind her and kicked off her shoes just to see them fly across the room. She straightened the cushions on the couch with more force than necessary. She smacked the pillows into place.

An unfamiliar feeling crawled across her. She was experiencing something ― something unpleasant. She kicked at pile of magazines teetering next to the couch and watched approvingly as they toppled, snaking across the floor.

She grabbed the phone and pushed Rory's number. She counted each ring, feeling even more upset when she realized Rory probably wasn't around to answer.

"Well, hello you." Rory's voice was breathless but fond.

"Can you talk?" she asked harshly.

"Um, sure." She listened to rustlings and faint voices in the background before she heard a door click shut. "Man, what's got you pissed?"

Relief spread through her. "You're right. I'm pissed. That's it exactly!"

Rory chuckled. "Glad I could help. So what did Michel do this time?"

"Not Michel," she grumbled without thinking. "It's Luke."

She could actually feel Rory's concern sliding towards her over the air. "Luke?" she asked, her voice carefully tilted towards faux-casual. "What'd Luke do?"

"He didn't do anything," she was forced to admit, kicking at the pile of magazines again. "That's why I'm calling you, because I'm not sure why I'm so pissed at him."

"Start at the beginning," Rory advised.

She sighed and plopped down on the couch. "He asked me to go look at a house. He's still looking for someplace he and April could live."

There was a pause before Rory responded. "That couldn't have been easy."

Lorelai saw him again as he was in the Pink Princess room, his finger touching the feather boa. "No, it was OK. We…We talked some. Really talked. That part was good."

"Well, good, then," Rory said, encouragingly.

"It was when we got back here that the pissiness started."

"He was at the house?" Rory asked. Her voice was carefully neutral.

"Just on the porch. He wants to come over and 'fix' things," Lorelai said sarcastically.

"Such as?"

"Windows. Siding."

"And that's bad?"

"Yes! No!" She looked around in vain for something else to kick. "It just doesn't seem right."

"Well, it's what he used to do," Rory pointed out reasonably.

Something clicked. "Yeah, that's what he used to do." The tension eased inside of her. "But it's not like it used to be."

"Go on," Rory suggested.

Lorelai slid on the couch until her head was resting on the arm. "It's not the same. We've been through hell and him wanting to go back to the way it was before we meant anything to each other just seems dishonest."

"Maybe that wasn't his intention," Rory ventured. "Maybe he does just want to help. That's Luke, you know."

_That was my Luke,_ she thought, _and he's not my Luke anymore._

She cleared her throat as she tried to push the yearning away. "The Crapshack's my responsibility," she stated. "It's my job to keep it together. I don't need him here fixing stuff that I should be fixing and leaving more reminders around of how I screwed up."

Rory was silent for a few seconds while Lorelai's words hovered between them. "Then you need to figure out a way to tell him that. A nice way," she warned.

"I'll be nice," Lorelai muttered.

"You're doing fine, Mom. I know this is hard, but you're doing a good job figuring it all out. I'm proud of you."

The praise from her daughter put a Band-Aid on her battered heart. "Thanks, Sweets."

They talked a few more minutes about inconsequential stuff. After she said goodbye Lorelai stared up at the ceiling, wondering if the cracks in the plaster were foretelling some dire roof repairs. She swung her feet to the floor as she opened her phone and scrolled until she found Tom's number. Then she called him and asked him to recommend a handyman capable of taking over her home repairs.

* * *

The next morning Lorelai was intercepted on her way to Luke's.

"There she is! Lorelai, you naughty, naughty girl!" Miss Patty's arms squeezed her so hard she felt ribs move.

"Whoa, there, Patty!" she protested, trying to extricate herself before permanent harm was done. "I've done nothing to justify a hug like that."

"Don't play coy with me, dear." Patty's face glowed as she leaned closer to Lorelai. "I heard all about your little house-hunting trip with Luke. I had no idea things had progressed so far with the two of you! That makes me so happy I'm going to overlook the fact that Eastside Tillie was the one who got the scoop from Brian."

"There's no scoop, Patty." Lorelai wanted to smack herself. How stupid was she to forget the Stars Hollow Gossip All-Stars? "Luke's trying to find a house for when April visits here. It has nothing to do with me."

Patty's chuckle sounded patronizing. "Of course not, dear." She winked at Lorelai. "Next time just let me know ahead of time, OK? I really want to put one over on that Walnut Street broad!"

Lorelai felt yesterday's misplaced anger sloshing through her again as she watched Patty gaily wave goodbye on her way to the dance studio. She yanked open the door of the diner impatiently. The last thing she needed was more speculation about her and Luke.

For once she had no qualms about plunking herself down at the counter. Today she had an agenda.

"Be with you in a minute," Luke nodded at her as he zipped by with steaming plates.

"I'm not staying," Lorelai threw out at him. "I'm not ordering. Just wanted to let you know the household repairs are taken care of. You're off the hook." She swiveled the stool around and slid off, preparing to stomp back out the door.

"What are you talking about?" He sat the plates down and rushed over to her. "Lorelai, wait!" he said, and grabbed her upper arm. "What's going on?"

She shook off his hand. "It's no big deal. I hired someone to fix the stuff on the porch you pointed out yesterday, that's all. You don't have to worry about it." Once again she tried to leave.

"Will you stop?" He sounded harried. He spread his arms and managed to herd her over to the end of the counter, somewhat away from the listening ears of the pancake-eaters. "Why would you hire someone to do that?"

"Because it's not your concern. It's not your house and not your responsibility." She heard the nasty note in her voice and tried to recalibrate. "Apparently it's all over town that I went to look at a house with you," she admitted to him grudgingly. "You bring Bert over to my house and we'll be number one with a bullet on the Gossip Top Ten again."

"Oh." He scowled as he considered that. "Well, I don't care," he finally said. "Let 'em think what they want."

She sighed as she rested her hip against the stool closest to her. "I care," she admitted softly. "I don't want to have to go through all of that speculation again. You pointed out to me months ago that there's nothing you ever have to do for me again. I think we should keep it that way."

He made a face at her reminder. "I know I don't have to do stuff, but I don't mind. It's not that big a deal, is it? I used to do fix the house for you all the time. Why shouldn't I do it now?"

"Because…" She fumbled for words to explain. "It's not before, Luke. It's now. It's now and it's different. We can't just turn the clock back a half-dozen years and pretend nothing's changed."

He looked confused. "I thought that's what we were trying for. Aren't we trying to be friends again?"

She bent her fingers against the edge of the counter, welcoming the little bit of pain that helped her to focus. "I don't think we can Quantum Leap back and forth over our history and just land on the part we want. We have to take it as a whole and go from there. As much as I'd love to go back in time and pretend, that's not the way it is."

He looked irritated. "It's just a little bit of caulk and some nails, Lorelai. I don't see that it's that big of a deal."

"No, but it goes back to me being able to stand on my own. I relied on you too much before, I think. I can't do that anymore."

"So…what? I'm not allowed to do anything for you? Tell me what's permitted. I don't want to step over the line here." Disdain was pouring out of him.

She shook her head, easing herself onto the stool again. "I don't have all the answers, Luke. I wish I did. I don't think there's a book on this. I don't think there's a book called 'He Used to Be Into You but Now He's Not.'" She gave another little sigh. "We're in unexplored territory here. And if either of us feels uncomfortable about something we need to be able to express it. And right now you having anything to do with the house just seems wrong."

She watched him ponder that as he reached for a mug and the coffeepot. He pushed the filled cup in front of her. "It feels wrong to me to _not_ help you," he pointed out, slowly.

She felt the sadness filling up her throat, choking her, so she sipped at the hot coffee, hoping to swallow it away. "Maybe it won't always be this way," she explained, "but right now it is. Does that make any sense at all?"

He pushed up the band of his hat and rubbed his forehead crankily. "You've never made much sense to me. Why should that change now?"

She smiled at him and he scowled back. Just like old times.

"So can I cook breakfast for you, or is that on the forbidden list too?" he grumbled.

She pretended to weigh that over. "A special-order omelet might be too much, but scrambled eggs and bacon has just the right connotation to it, I think."

"Crazy lady," he muttered, heading for the grill.

Her spirits lightened. She guzzled her coffee and shoveled in the scrambled eggs when they appeared in front of her. Her good mood lasted until she stepped into the kitchen at the Dragonfly.

"Lorelai!" Sookie attacked her with a fierce hug. "Why didn't you tell me about the house and the Luke and the looking?" Sookie giggled as she gave her another squeeze, rocking them back and forth as she kept time to the rhyme that was continuing on in her head. "But it's OK. I forgive you. I'm just so happy to hear the news!"

Lorelai smacked her head and groaned. Then, resigned, she once again tackled rumor control.

* * *

The pretty fall weather ended with a thunderstorm that decimated the colorful leaves. Cold air turned the blue skies to gray. The days passed and witches and black cats and pumpkins took over the scenery.

The Luke and Lorelai gossip took a backseat to a water main break and a slight scandal involving Vern the florist and the assistant principal at the high school. Lorelai could once again enter the diner without the whispers starting.

She found that the feelings of sadness and regret that had been her constant companions had been supplanted by loneliness. The gunmetal sky and biting wind seemed to press the ache of her aloneness into her very soul.

On the day before Rory's birthday Lorelai was walking quickly through the center of town. She'd opted out of work in the middle of the afternoon to collect the party supplies she still needed to overwhelm her baby.

She was pulling the list out of her pocket when she spied a Prius parked across from the diner. Even though she knew the car was indeed Rory's, she couldn't reconcile the fact that her daughter was here without her knowing it. She circled the car, confirming the Yale parking tag hanging from the rearview before she could accept the obvious.

"Birthday Girl!" She bounced through the door, eagerly prepared to party with her daughter a day early. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

Her feet slowed as she took in the sight of Rory's pinched, sad face from where she sat on a stool at the counter. Luke's arms were crossed and he looked nearly murderous. She sensed she'd stumbled into something she wasn't supposed to see.

"Hey guys. What's going on?" She let her hand perch comfortingly on Rory's shoulder.

"I suppose this was your idea," Luke shot at her.

Rory spoke up at once. "Mom doesn't know anything about this, Luke. This is all my idea."

Lorelai slid onto the stool next to Rory. "Well, your ideas are usually pretty good. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

For the first time she noticed the narrow black velvet case resting on the counter. Rory angled the case towards her and lifted the lid. The pearls nestled inside gave off a genteel rosy patina. "I'm giving these back to Luke," she explained.

"Oh, Rory." Lorelai glanced at Luke and noted the pain behind the bluster. She felt helpless. "Maybe you don't need to ―"

"Yes, I do," Rory said firmly, cutting her off. "I've thought about this a lot, and it's what I need to do."

Luke gave a snort of contempt.

Rory sighed. "Luke, you have no idea how much it meant to me last year when you gave these to me. Let's face it, I screwed up last year. I screwed up big time. But then you came to my party. That ridiculous, over-the-top party. You came and you even drank that disgusting pink drink. Then you gave me your mother's pearls." Rory pushed against a rung of the stool and leaned over to touch his arm. She looked relieved when his face softened.

She smiled as she settled back down onto the seat. "You did it in typical Luke fashion, like it didn't mean anything at all. But I knew it did. I knew it meant so much. To me it meant that you still loved me." She looked down at her lap, swallowing down the tears that Lorelai could feel in her own throat. "It meant that maybe I hadn't screwed up completely. It meant that maybe I could come home and find my way again." She looked back up at Luke and smiled at him, blinking hard. "They meant a lot."

He nodded, not looking as angry, but decidedly uncomfortable. "They're still yours," he insisted, shoving the case closer to Rory.

"No, they're not," she replied, her voice sounding every bit as stubborn as his. "When you gave them to me a year ago we thought…Well, we thought we were going to be family. But we're not now, are we?" Her eyebrows lifted as she stared at him, daring him to contradict her.

Lorelai could tell that he wanted to argue the point, wanted to somehow find a way to refute Rory's logic. But he couldn't. It was over, all over, and his slumping shoulders and weak head shake put an end to their love affair in the most definitive way possible. Her heart ached all over again.

"You have a daughter, Luke, it's just not me," Rory gently explained. "These need to go to April, not me."

Luke's hands balled into his hips as he averted his face. Lorelai felt like she was going to fly apart as she witnessed his anguish at yet another Gilmore betrayal.

"Rory," she tried again, "are you sure you have to do this? Are you sure you can't ―"

"Mom." Rory's voice was clear and determined. "I've admired how you've handled your mess so much. I've watched you try to make amends and live with your mistakes. It made me realize that I did a really lousy job of it when I came home last year. It made me realize that I have a lot of things to put right, too. This is one of the things that's been weighing heavily on me. These really don't belong to me." She carefully slid the case closer to him.

"Luke, I thank you for the sentiment that was in this gift," Rory said formally, standing up. The words sounded as though she'd rehearsed them. "I hope you understand why I need to give them back to you now."

She turned and started to walk to the door. Lorelai's head swiveled from Luke's painfully hunched shoulders to the determined set of her daughter's as she prepared to leave the diner.

Lorelai launched herself from the stool and trotted to catch up with Rory. "Sweetie," she said, grabbing the girl's arm. She swallowed hard, trying to latch onto some words to make this better. She inclined her head towards the devastated man slouching behind the counter. "Luke," was all she could force out. She hoped that was enough, that somehow the bond she shared with Rory would help her to understand what she was trying to explain.

Rory hesitated. She turned enough to see Luke and Lorelai watched as uncertainty washed over her face.

The next second Rory was hurtling herself back behind the counter. Luke looked up just in time to brace himself as she threw herself into his arms. He stumbled backwards from the force but managed to keep them both upright. She tucked her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

Lorelai shakily made it back to the counter again. She reclaimed the stool just in time to hear Rory's whisper.

"I wanted it, you know? You, and Mom, and me. I really wanted that, Luke."

"I know," he whispered back. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

They pulled apart in the next moment, their familiar awkwardness towards each other making a reappearance. Luke tried to smile and Rory wiped her eyes as she stepped back.

"Maybe we could make some sort of a ― a rental agreement about the pearls," she suggested.

"What do you mean by that?" Luke asked suspiciously.

"Maybe April wouldn't mind if I borrowed them on special occasions," Rory continued. "There's a rumor that I'm actually going to graduate next spring. Maybe she'd be OK if I wore them on my graduation day."

Luke cleared his throat. "I think she'd go for that."

Rory nodded, and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I might even get married someday. Maybe I could wear the pearls then." Her grin combined shyness with mischievousness.

"Only if I approve of the guy," Luke warned her.

"Deal." Rory was beaming.

The bells over the door rang out and Lorelai's head snapped around to see who was entering. She couldn't believe they'd managed to have this poignant scene without half the town witnessing it. Her head was dizzy and her insides had dissolved into a pool of emotion.

"I'd better get out of here before Kirk sees me and thinks he can come back here," Rory said. She touched Luke's hand and started back around the counter. "Hey," she said, stopping and looking back at him. "I just thought of something. Mom has an Almost-Mommy."

"What?" Luke looked back and forth between them, distrustfully.

"It's true," Lorelai murmured, surprised she could still speak. "Pennilynn Lott. She's my Dad's old college girlfriend."

"Anyway," Rory continued, "maybe you can be my Almost-Daddy."

Luke shook his head at both of them. "Only you two would come up with something that crazy."

"Sometimes life doesn't give you the family you need," Rory argued as she stepped around to Lorelai.

"So you have to go out and find them yourself," Lorelai added. She put her arm around Rory and they walked to the door.

She looked back to see him still standing rooted behind the counter, possibly shell-shocked. Their eyes met and locked in one of those moments of pure understanding that they used to share. They smiled and nodded, and just for a second she felt the warmth of his affection.

And then Rory tugged her out the door.

* * *

"Lorelai!" April's voice was shrill with excitement.

Lorelai spun around and watched the girl dash across the street, dodging a puddle left by the November rain the day before. "Hey, you!" she said, catching her up in a hug when she reached her.

"I haven't seen you in weeks!" April complained.

"I know. You've been busy," Lorelai commented.

"Stupid school," April grinned, knowing Lorelai wouldn't believe her.

"Stupid work," Lorelai groused, grinning as well. She put her arm around April's shoulder and nudged her down the street. "Do you have time to let me treat you to something at Weston's?"

"Hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate it is," Lorelai agreed. "Maybe a brownie as well, huh?"

"Chocolate overload!" April crowed.

Lorelai scoffed. "There's no such thing."

They ducked into Weston's and placed their order, both knowing exactly what they wanted. They found a little table in the corner and started taking off their cold weather gear.

"So how's Locker Boy?" Lorelai asked immediately.

April rolled her eyes, managing to give Luke's specialty a feminine flair. "He told Sasha he hoped I was going to Eli's party, but then he didn't talk to me all night!"

Lorelai sipped at her cocoa. "Man, he's got it bad."

"He's an idiot," April remarked.

"At your age, Sweetie, they all are. And I hate to tell you, but it stays that way for many, many years."

April segued into talking about a science experiment and Lorelai listened to the excited cadence of her voice. Sometimes April reminded her so much of Rory at that age that it made her ache inside.

"How's your mom?" Her nerves flared up as she asked even that simple question.

"OK," April shrugged, biting into her brownie. "She says we have to spend the entire Christmas break with my Grandma. I was hoping I'd have time to hang out here."

Lorelai commiserated with her while gently pointing out that her grandmother hadn't been well.

"I know," April sighed. She shifted in her seat. Her eyes darted to Lorelai's hesitantly. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." She loved April's questions and settled herself back to enjoy it.

"It's about Dad."

She hadn't expected that. "Go ahead," she said gamely.

April stirred the whipped cream into her cocoa as she thought. "You guys were going to get married, right?"

The mouthful of dough and chocolate chips currently in her mouth turned to dust and she struggled to swallow. Surely she could handle simple answers.

"Yes."

April was frowning slightly. "Why didn't you?"

"Oh, honey, that's…" She wiped her damp palms against her slacks. "That's complicated."

"It can't be that complicated," April insisted. "You had to love each other enough to talk about getting married. Something had to happen to stop it. What was it?"

Lorelai wasn't finding April's usual bluntness charming today. "Sometimes things just don't work out."

April poked sullenly at her brownie. "Was it me?"

Lorelai gasped in distress. "Oh, April, no! Of course not!"

The look April leveled at her was much more sharp and knowing than she would have expected. April sat back and crossed her arms while she watched Lorelai. "He didn't tell me anything about you. Did he tell you about me?"

Lorelai gasped for the second time and frantically looked around the homey bakery, trying desperately to think of something to say.

"Why would he do that?" April demanded, taking her non-response as an answer.

"Boys are just stupid sometimes," Lorelai said as lightly as she could. She could feel sweat trickling down her sternum under her clingy sweater. "Maybe this is something you should talk to your dad about."

"I've tried," April said dismissively, pleating her napkin. "He gets this look like it's killing him so I don't do it anymore. That's why I wanted to ask you."

"Oh, boy," Lorelai muttered. She pretended to sip at her cocoa.

"Did you hate me?" April persisted.

Lorelai was glad she really hadn't taken a drink because she would have choked. "No, I didn't hate you." She took a calming breath and refocused. "I hated not getting to know you. That I hated."

April nodded attentively and Lorelai hoped that the worst was over.

"Was it Mom's fault?"

Lorelai squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. The girl was relentless.

"It wasn't anybody's fault, April. It was just the way it was."

"That's dumb."

"April ―"

"Why didn't you do something about it? Why did you let him get away with it?"

"It wasn't that simple ―"

"Of course it was. You loved him, right? Why couldn't you work it out?"

She hung her head and stared at the cookie crumbs in front of her. A thirteen-year-old was reading her the riot act and twisting her insides into knots. She looked up when she heard April sigh.

"And now you look like he did," the girl said. "Sorry, Lorelai."

"It's OK," Lorelai said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. "We can talk about this." She smiled with as much grace as she could find. "You know how much I love to talk."

"It's just I don't get it. You still love him, right?"

For once she had no words. She licked at her silent lips, wondering what on earth she could possibly say.

April leaned across the small table and grabbed her hand, turning it so her palm was resting on the table. "See? You're still wearing the ring." April made the evidence sound like there was no other conclusion. "That's why you still wear it, right? Because you're still in love with him! Because you still think there's a chance you'll get back together, right?"

She snatched her hand away and hid it in her lap. She was appalled and mortified. She wanted to curl up underneath the table and hide until it was dark enough to slink away home. But across the table April was still waiting on an answer.

"Everybody loves a love story," she said, carefully choosing her words. "But the sad truth is that sometimes they just don't come true, and this is one of those times. Your dad had a life before he met me, and so did I. He had you, and your mom, and unresolved issues from lots of other things in his life. I had Rory, and a new business to run, and a ton of anger directed at my parents. For a while we tried to ignore all of that other stuff but it managed to squeeze in anyway. I wish I had a Disney ending for you, but I don't. There isn't any evil spell to break or some quest to go on to win the kingdom. It just didn't work."

April looked at her skeptically.

Under the table, Lorelai twisted the ring on her finger nervously. She searched through her conversation catalog for some way to end this particular piece of dialogue before April grew even more convinced that she and Luke were destined to get back together.

"You know how great your dad is," she began, the words faltering as she tried to put them together. "We were friends for a long time before we started dating, and I'm grateful that we're still friends now. I am really sorry that I missed out on the chance to be your step-mom, because you know I would have totally rocked that." She managed to do a little wink like she was still filled with the old Lorelai confidence. "I'm glad we've gotten to know each other now, though," she added. "That makes me really happy."

April was still studying her like she was on specimen slide under the microscope. Finally she shrugged and took another bite of her brownie. "Yeah, me too," she mumbled through a full mouth.

She didn't exactly sound convinced so Lorelai hustled to find another topic.

"So what else is on your agenda today? Can Paul Anka expect a visit?" She sipped at the hot chocolate that had lost its appeal as she listened to April list the things she hoped to accomplish during the day-and-a-half she'd be in Stars Hollow. She listened and smiled and inserted snarky comments whenever possible and made April laugh. At the same time she tried to contain all of her unchained emotions that were once again battering her defenseless heart to pieces.

Eventually all of the chocolate was consumed and she waved goodbye to April and watched her head down the street towards the library, her original destination. Lorelai was supposed to be on her way to the Dragonfly.

Instead she went back home. She wandered without purpose through the downstairs rooms, lingering in Rory's as she stood and read through all of the titles in her bookcase yet again. She went upstairs and ended up in her beautifully expanded bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror that covered the wall over both sinks.

She watched herself raise her hand. She studied the ring she wore.

She remembered the night he'd put it on her other hand. All she'd wanted to do that night was to curl up on Rory's bed and cry over her lost little girl. But Luke had shown up with a plan she didn't have the power to fight. They'd walked outside in the moonlight and he'd drawn her over to the chuppah where he'd slipped the ring on her finger. She remembered how she'd gushed over the ring and tried to make him believe that there was no pain in her heart at all. That there was only love for him as she'd kissed and teased him. She'd focused only on him as she'd enticed him upstairs, purposefully ignoring that empty darkness that had once been Rory's room. No one but him as she lay in his arms. She remembered listening to his heart beating so steadily while she cuddled against his chest, but in her mind she was seeing her daughter's face in the pool house only hours before. She'd held back her tears and instead only told him how happy she was.

Was that when it had all started to go wrong? She'd obscured her true feelings and lied and danced over every ache, keeping him at arm's length with everything concerning Rory. Why was she surprised when he did the same thing to her later with April? She had been his teacher. He was merely following her example. He probably figured that was how she wanted it to be.

Her eyes followed the flashes and sparks as the diamond caught the light and reflected it again in the mirror.

Was what April said true? Was she still wearing it because she thought she could get Luke back? Was that what everyone thought when they saw it? Is that what _Luke_ thought?

Her cheeks burned while she contemplated that. She'd believed that she had a legitimate basis to keep wearing the ring but now she doubted her reasoning. Maybe she'd been lying to herself, too. Maybe everybody could see the truth but her.

She made the decision swiftly and twisted the ring off before she could change her mind. She'd had months of practice in how to hide away unpleasant thoughts and she used that skill now while burying the ring in her jewelry box.

Then she marched off to work, pretending that everything, as usual, was completely fine.

* * *

Her hand continually felt like it was ready to float away into space. Holding a pen was practically impossible. Her fingers hovered over the computer, not quite able to hit the home keys. She kept it tethered in a pocket if at all possible.

Who knew that a small band of white gold and a diamond was heavy enough to keep her grounded?

In the two weeks since she'd removed the ring she'd been fighting to stay level. Dark thoughts and insecurities once again overwhelmed her. Anger and confusion choked her. She kept to herself because otherwise sharp words flew out of her mouth and zinged whomever was unlucky enough to be beside her.

She avoided the diner. The food stuck in her throat and she was afraid the words that wanted to spill out would not stay silent.

The November weather was ugly and so was she. The days were gray and laced with fog that refused to dissipate. The air was cold but brought no snow and made it easy for one day to blend dully into the next. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders and she didn't care enough to even bind it back into a ponytail. Her eyes were red-rimmed from sleepless nights and lacked the spark that had once driven her.

Whatever confidence and strength she'd been able to stockpile was slowly eaten away. Once again she felt alone and empty.

If only it would snow. It was three days before Thanksgiving but the stupid weather forecaster out of Hartford kept saying the same thing, all about stalled cold fronts and mid-forties and watch out for that fog, folks! Idiot.

She stepped out of bookstore and spied him in all of his flannel-clad glory, apparently on his way to Doose's. She told herself to turn and go the other way. She pictured herself walking over to K.C.'s and ordering a drink. She imagined turning her back and finding a quiet place to call Rory. But her feet didn't listen. They carried her across the street and put her in the one place she knew she shouldn't be.

"There you are!" He was happy to see her. Relieved, even. "I thought maybe you went out of town and didn't tell me." He looked at her closer and frowned. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick," she said smoothly. "How are you?"

"I'm OK," he allowed, still searching her face in confusion.

"So, are you getting ready for the party?" she asked, bobbing her head with fake enthusiasm.

"Party?" He was even more confused. "Do you mean Thanksgiving?"

"Nah. I mean the party! It's been pretty close to a year since you met April, right? I figured you'd be planning a big party."

Apparently the bitter note in her voice was enough to put him on guard. "Lorelai," he started to say, warningly.

She pretended to gasp. "What? Wasn't I supposed to know? Well, that'd be just like old times, wouldn't it?"

"Don't ―" he started again.

"Here's an idea. Throw the party, but don't tell me about it for two months!"

"Stop."

"Oh, and make sure everyone else in town is there! Make sure you invite Jess. And Rory! Everyone but me!"

"Come on. Don't do this here," he said tightly. He reached for her arm.

She danced out of his grasp. "Why not? It's been six months since my last public humiliation. People expect it. Hey, everyone!" She waved and did something that looked like a jumping jack. "Yoo-hoo! It's that crazy Gilmore woman again!"

People averted their eyes and sidestepped around them. Some crossed the street or dove into doorways.

"Six months, Luke." She forced a laugh. "It occurs to me that it's been a year since April and six months since we ended and I'm still not talking! I'm still scared to tell you what I think! And come on, tell the truth. Wouldn't you like to hear what's in my head?"

He drew a breath and looked around nervously. When he looked back at her it was with new resolve. "Yes," he said simply.

She blinked at his sympathetic tone but soon recovered her irritation.

"Well, for one thing, I hate that you knew for two months and didn't tell me. I hate that you didn't have enough faith in me or love me enough or whatever it was that made you keep her away from me like I was carrying the Black Death or something. I hate that you cared more about what Anna wanted than you did me." She wasn't crying but she felt like she was, her breath coming in big open-mouthed gasps between phrases. "I hate that you made me trust you. I hate that you made me believe you when you said you were all in. What you really meant was that you were all in as long as it suited you."

She took in his stillness, his unperturbed demeanor while he stood there, listening to her. "And I hate that you're just standing here now like this doesn't mean anything!"

"You want to talk, Lorelai," he said, quietly. "I'm just listening."

She felt her jaw quiver as she swallowed. She was tired of being weak and silent. Anger pushed out more words.

"I hate that I stayed quiet and I hate that you didn't care! I hate that, Luke!"

"Go on," he encouraged her when she paused for breath.

His laid-back attitude made her blaze again. She leaned in towards him, her voice low and fierce.

"I hate that you did this to us. I hate that you broke us. I hate ―" She stopped abruptly, once again feeling like she was crying when she wasn't.

"Go on," he said, with a gentle patience she'd rarely witnessed. "Say it. Just get it out."

By the time the words finally left her mouth there was no heat behind them. "I hate you," she said in the barest of whispers.

He looked so sad. "I know," he softly acknowledged, and that was what broke her apart.

Real tears finally streamed down her face, striping her of makeup and whatever dignity she still had left. She turned from him and headed home through sheer force of memory. She felt like the fog was wrapped thickly around her, blurring her sight.

Home. She tripped through the door and dove for the couch. She grabbed the afghan and buried her head under it as she huddled on the cushions.

She didn't want to think. She couldn't think. She couldn't bear to hear the words in her head.

She needed to breathe. Just breathe. She concentrated on listening as her heart rate lessened. She made note when her crying ceased.

And then the phone broke the silence. It rang the required five times. She listened to her own voice play out in the empty room.

"Hello you lucky person! Even though neither of the fabulous Lorelais are here right now, you still are being treated to listening to the melodious voice of one of them. Leave a message and one of us will call you back and then you'll be so fortunate as to hear one of us in person! Do it at the beep!"

Had she been capable of movement at that moment she would have cringed in embarrassment.

No one left a message. She went back to concentrating on her heartbeat again, trying to block out everything else.

Five minutes later the phone rang again. She bit her lip, listening to the ridiculous greeting play again. Blessed silence filled the air for three minutes. Then the phone again. She tried to gear up to leave her sheltering cocoon and go rip the phone out of the jack, but this time he spoke.

"Um, yeah, it's me."

She stopped breathing completely and tugged the crocheted stitches tighter over her face.

"I guess I should've known you wouldn't answer the phone. Especially not if you thought it was me. But I needed to make sure you were OK." He paused and she could picture how the lines between his eyes were crinkling in worry. "Just for my own peace of mind, I'm going to pretend you're there listening to me, OK?"

For good measure she burrowed her head under a pillow, too.

"It seems like we've been going at this from opposite ends," he said, sighing. "That first time you came to talk to me all you could say was that you were sorry and I could barely stand to look at you. I didn't want to see you because I was so mad at you. I was so angry at you, Lorelai, and so hurt, and so full of hate. I didn't want to see you or hear your voice. Now you're mad and I'm the one who's sorry. Jeez, I'm sorry, Lorelai. I'm so sorry."

His voice was so tender with sincerity that it broke her heart all over again.

"There's nothin' wrong with you being mad," he continued on. "You should be mad. I don't know when that stopped for me. Probably when I realized how much I missed you and how good it felt to be around you again. I hope ― I hope the anger stops for you sometime too. When it does ― if it does ― you know where I am, right?"

He was silent and she almost thought he'd hung up, but then he continued. "I just wanted to let you know that I understand where you are right now. If you want to call me and yell at me some more, you do that. You can call my answering machine and fill it up with four-letter words if you want to. You do whatever you need to do to fight through this, OK? I just want you healed and back to being yourself again."

He paused again or maybe he'd said everything he had to say. The answering machine cut off. She stayed curled underneath her protective fibers, blocking out as much of reality as possible. She wasn't ready to think yet. She wasn't ready to hear his words yet.

Drained both emotionally and physically, eventually she fell asleep. When she awoke much later she found that the double crochet pattern from the afghan seemed to be permanently etched into her face. For two days she saw the faint marks on her cheeks and remembered her cowardly flight away from him and despaired of ever being normal again.

_Oh, if only it would snow…_


	4. Reunion

**New Note:** Here's the last chapter. Looking back on it now, it's not exactly the chapter I wanted to write, but sometimes you just can't find the words to match the scene you see in your head. I thought about changing this up a little bit now, using my hindsight, but that didn't seem fair since it's already been set loose on the world. So please be kind and I hope you enjoy! DFC

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, it certainly took a long time to get here, didn't it? I need to thank **Jewels**, the sweetest Alternate Daughter anyone ever had, for asking some hard questions that ultimately made this story better. She also patiently pointed out all sorts of things I swear Mr. Felton neglected to teach me in eighth-grade English. And now, for better or for worse, here's the last chapter of _It's All Coming Back to Me Now_.

* * *

_"You're sure she's ready for this?" the mother asked, not for the first time. She seemed genuinely concerned about her daughter and not ready to bite his head off for a change._

_"Yes," the doctor reassured once again. "I'm quite pleased with her progress."_

_"Because if she's not," the father broke in, "we're certainly willing to pay for another week. We don't want to see a re-occurrence again."_

_"She's doing amazingly well," the doctor informed them. He was doing a good job of gently shooing them through his waiting room to the front door. "That doesn't mean that she won't have her ups and downs, but she'll be able to handle them. I expect her to come back for check-ups, of course, or if she does experience a prolonged downward turn. All of you are welcome to call me, too, if you have questions or concerns." With a smile forged from years of dealing with stressed families he pushed open the door for them._

_"Thank you, Doctor," the mother told him, sounding sincere. "We appreciate the time you've spent with us."_

_"Indeed." The father shook his hand with a powerful grip. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't taken her case."_

_"All I did was lead her back. She just needed to tap into her own strength," the doctor insisted. "If things should get rough again, she'll just need to remember that."_

_"Well, thank you. And I was serious about offering to do a fundraiser for your clinic. Give me a call." The mother smiled politely as she pushed her hands into buttery leather gloves._

_"A pleasure, Doctor." The father nodded and he and his wife stepped outside._

_The girl had been quietly biding her time. Now she came up beside him and beamed a shy, happy smile._

_"You were right," she said. "You said you'd get me my mom back, and you did. Thank you." She put her arms around his shoulders and gave him an awkward, though charming hug._

_He patted her shoulder as she pulled away. "You were a tremendous help to her. I should be thanking you."_

_"Maybe I should ditch journalism and go for pre-med," she teased._

_He raised an eyebrow. "But then you'd have to spend time in hospitals."_

_"True," she laughed. "Thanks, Dr. McClooney." She glanced outside. "I'd better go. Grandpa's waiting."_

_The girl pulled on her knitted hat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Just before she stepped out the door she dipped her shoulder towards the rear of the waiting room. "I think there's somebody back there who'd like to talk to you now." Her blue eyes sparkled at him as she exited._

_The doctor frowned when he turned. He hadn't noticed anyone else waiting and he'd thought his schedule was clear for the rest of the day._

_The man who had been hiding in the shadows of the room slowly stood up, placing a crumpled Sports Illustrated back in the magazine rack. The doctor could see that the man was tall. He was wearing a suit, but by the way he tugged on the cuffs and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt the doctor could tell he wasn't used to being dressed up._

_"Do you have an appointment?" the doctor asked as he stepped closer._

_"No," he said. He motioned towards the family that had just left, and then swung his arm to the closed doors behind him. "I'm here about her."_

_The doctor knew enough about human nature to be able to read the determination and devotion playing across the man's face. Suddenly he understood who he was. He appraised the gentleman in front of him again. No wonder his patient had been so broken for so long._

_"I wondered when you'd come," the doctor told him._

_"I should have been here before this," the man said regretfully._

_"I'm sure you had battles of your own. But you're here now."_

_The man nodded firmly. "I'm here," he said, "and I want to help."_

* * *

The last few days of November and the beginning of December went by in a gray blur of contradictions.

She stayed up late and watched old black and white movies, crying along with every leading lady who got her heart broken. On other nights she went to bed early and tried to sleep away the anguish that still dogged her.

Some days she paused outside the diner, casting longing looks inside. On other days she refused to even pass through the center of town.

There were days when she was a whirlwind at work, arriving early and staying late, shadowing maids and busboys as they tried to do their jobs. Then there were other days when she could barely drag herself to the Dragonfly at all and spent the majority of the hours hiding inside her office.

There were long spells when she did nothing but stare out into space, remembering his kindnesses and his sweetness and the burning nights spent wrapped up in his arms. Just as often she remembered his slights and biting words and the emotional wounds that refused to heal.

For example, that whole stupid weekend at the Huntzberger's place on Martha's Vineyard. Lorelai grabbed Michel's pad of post-its. 'Give stupid necklace to Rory' she scrawled, and put the note in her pocket. She'd never believed for a minute that the necklace had come from Luke. Maybe getting it out of the house and back to Logan would help to exorcise one more ghost.

Rory called daily. "I don't need to go to London," she kept insisting. "It's crazy, me thinking I can skip Christmas with you! What kind of an ungrateful kid did you raise, lady?"

She didn't want Rory to cancel the chance to see her boyfriend. She was beginning to think that Logan really did care about Rory and she didn't want to put a crimp in their long-anticipated holiday plans. She knew she needed to get herself straightened out.

She went to her parents' early Christmas dinner and stuffed herself with every apple tart she could hold. Her mother trapped her outside the bathroom, but instead of the lecture about hogging the tarts that she expected, Emily was surprisingly perceptive.

"Come with us to St. Thomas," Emily suggested. It was a suggestion, Lorelai decided, even though it sounded like an order. "Rory won't be here, and what good will it do you to be here alone? Come with us and let some new scenery perk you up."

She told Sookie about the offer the next day, scoffing about spending two weeks alone with her parents. "Like that would help me," she told Sookie, rolling her eyes.

But Sookie was thoughtful. "It couldn't hurt, Lorelai, to get out of town. Think about laying on a warm beach somewhere, with hot hunks dripping water on the trashy paperbacks you're trying to read. And later, strolling in the moonlight with Rafael, and he whips your sarong off with one swipe of his powerful hand―"

"Whoa, girl! Down! That might be your fantasy, but it's not mine." She grinned at her friend who was now blushing around her dimples. She didn't say it but she couldn't imagine a worse Christmas than to be somewhere without snow. Although every snowless day in Stars Hollow was starting to make that fear look more like a possibility.

Although she hated the idea of the beach, the thought of getting out of town was appealing. She contacted the Durham Group to see if she could wrangle a working trip from them. She discovered that they had been shelving work until after the holidays out of consideration for her. When they learned that she was willing and could alter her schedule to accommodate them, they instantly set up a return trip to Utah for her.

Just five days later Paul Anka was checked into a cozy kennel and she was back in Salt Lake, gazing in awe as a snowstorm covered the tops of the mountains to her east in a thick white swirl.

She visited the same inns that she had in August. This time, in the lodgings owned by the Durham Group, she observed their operations to see if the suggested changes had made a difference. The Durham Group had purchased one of the other inns shortly after her visit, and Lorelai was pleased to see how the facilities had been updated and how much happier the staff appeared.

Once again she threw herself into the job and found herself buoyed up by the feeling of competence. She was enjoying herself and her spirit refused to get dragged down in sad thoughts.

She thought about calling Daniel but didn't. He was a wonderful guy and he deserved someone with a whole heart to give back to him. Reluctantly she put his business card back in her wallet.

Instead she rented a car and took herself to Astro Burger. She examined the huge menu board on her own and ordered an exceptional burger. It was just as good as she remembered and she chowed down happily.

She studied a map provided by the small hotel she was currently observing and figured out how to drive downtown. She found a parking spot along a busy street and strolled until she entered a bustling shopping area.

Twinkle lights were strung everywhere and she experienced a momentary jolt back to Stars Hollow. Big masonry urns that most likely held summer flowers were filled with poinsettias. A huge bronze caldron blazed with a fire that was drawing shoppers close to get warm. People were hurrying everywhere, probably grabbing last-minute Christmas presents.

She stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. Coffee. Really good-smelling coffee. With hardy a pause she entered the bookstore and found the coffee counter. A few minutes later she emerged back into the picture-perfect plaza and found a ledge to perch on while she sipped her coffee and watched the other shoppers.

Huge gloppy snowflakes were falling all around. They hit the wet pavement and melted immediately. She tilted her face up, enjoying the sight of them falling to earth.

She tried some of the coffee. It was passable. Good, even. She sighed. She had to admit it. It was great coffee. It was every bit as good as Luke's. She'd known for quite some time that it was the company that put his coffee over the top, not the brew itself.

At the other end of her ledge she watched a boy pull a Matchbox bulldozer out of his coat pocket. He pushed the miniature dozer up and around the rocks, trying to pile up some of the snow that was finally starting to stick.

She wondered where his parents were. He only appeared to be about five and that was too young to be wandering around on his own. She finally spotted them on a bench by the fire. The man's arm was wrapped around his wife and her head was leaning on his shoulder. They looked happy in a way that ate at her heart. They were wrapped up in each other, yet their eyes never left their son.

Lorelai took another swallow of coffee and then wiped away some snowflakes that had melted on her eyelashes. They certainly weren't tears. Just melted snowflakes.

She kept sneaking looks at the busy young boy and his adoring parents. In between she stared down at her feet, studying the snowflakes joining together like some sort of cosmic jigsaw puzzle.

She looked upward again, letting the flakes bombard her face. From her vantage point it looked like angels had plucked a billion petals from a million daisies and were now letting them swirl their way earthward to the mortals watching below.

_He loves me,_ she heard in her head, her eyes tracking the descent of one snowflake. _He loves me not,_ she continued, watching another. _He loves me…_

Suddenly she was standing, one mitten soaked from the coffee that had sloshed from her cup. The little boy stopped his play and looked at her warily. She tried to smile at him reassuringly and forced herself to sit back down as calmly as possible in spite of the excitement churning through her.

For months now she'd been trying to put her life back together. She'd used apologies as spackle and hard work for nails. She'd tried to correct the damage she'd done to Luke and to everyone else who'd gotten in her way as she'd demolished her life. She thought she'd done everything she could to fix the hole in her heart but now she realized that no matter what she did it was never going to work. Her repairs were doomed to failure because she had forgotten the most important thing.

She had been right about some things. She _was_ a strong and capable woman. She'd always known that. You don't leave a gated house where there was always someone else to cook your meals and run off with a baby if you're not strong. She'd proven over and over again that she could do it all. She'd raised her daughter and bought a house. She'd started her own business. She'd demonstrated that she could be a valuable employee or a seasoned employer. She was a good mother, a good friend, and even Taylor Doose couldn't fault her support of Stars Hollow.

She was strong and she was a fighter. She'd fought to make sure Rory always had what she needed. It didn't matter if no one else was there in her corner. She was there. That was enough. She'd been willing to accept help but she was completely capable of going it alone.

She _could_ do this. She could live her life on her own. She could find fulfilling work. She could travel. She could find somebody else to be with, if that's what she wanted. She could even find decent coffee. She was strong enough to live her life and be passably happy.

But the question was did she _want_ to? She cast another glance at the couple on the bench. She knew who she wanted on that bench with her. She'd put in a lot of time weeding out the jerks, or the weak-willed, or the ones that were fun but nothing else. After a lifetime of searching she'd found him, and now she was just supposed to throw all that effort away?

She stood up, threw her coffee cup into the trash and started jogging across the shopping area. She shook her head over her own cluelessness. How could she have forgotten the most important thing?

She loved Luke. _Loved him._ All of the time they'd been apart she'd been trying so hard to cover up that fact, even from herself. It was like she thought admitting she still loved him was showing weakness. Like it was a character flaw.

Instead she should have been shouting that from the church steeple, like the Town Loner had tried during his ill-fated protest. She should have been in Luke's face every day, reminding him of that fact. Damn it all, why hadn't she fought when it mattered the most?

She emerged out onto the street and tried to find her rental car in the dark. Truthfully, she couldn't remember exactly where she'd parked. Or what the car looked like, for that matter. But she'd find it. She'd find it and get back to the hotel and finish her job and fly home.

The street was on a slight incline ― all of Salt Lake was on a slight incline ― and her feet slid in the slush as she picked up speed, looking for the car. It almost felt like she was skating. She threw back her head and laughed in delight.

Luke Danes didn't know it yet, but he was in for the fight of his life.

* * *

Lorelai sympathized with the three-year-old trapped behind her. She wanted to kick the seat in front of her, too.

It seemed like they'd been circling Bradley for hours. After every third pass the pilot would come on and apologize for the delay. Her fingers dug into the armrests as she chewed her lips. She wanted to be on her way to Stars Hollow so badly she could barely stand being restrained in her seat.

She heard someone say 'practically a blizzard' and she looked out the window on her side and realized why she'd been seeing nothing but white on the ground. Apparently her wish for snow had finally been fulfilled. Overfilled, possibly.

She tried to zone out as they circled and circled and circled again and eventually landed. The bumpy taxiing to the terminal was interminable. She stood motionless in the aisle for what seemed like days, waiting for the door to finally open, and then she sprinted with everyone else to the baggage claim.

Her pink-bandana'd case was one of the last to appear on the conveyor. She grabbed it and rushed outside, taking a big grateful breath of the cold air.

The poor Jeep was topped with nearly a foot of snow. She used a purloined airline magazine and her hands to scrape it away. She felt the slush melting through her boots but she didn't care one bit. All that mattered was getting home.

The highway was clogged with slow-moving traffic. A speed of 35 M.P.H. seemed like flying. Everyone cautiously slid over the slick pavement at a crawl, trying not to gawk at the unfortunate drivers who had already ended up in the median.

Finally the exit for Stars Hollow came up on her right. She left the highway with extreme caution and took a deep breath of relief to be away from the mess of traffic.

She forced herself to take her time driving the rest of the way. She didn't want to be this close and then find herself in the ditch and at Gypsy's mercy while waiting on a tow.

Joy spread through her at the sight of her little town. The twinkle lights glimmered through the snow and made Stars Hollow look like a glittery Christmas card. She carefully navigated through the square and almost skidded off the street from the shock of seeing holiday lights hanging in the diner window.

"Good for you, April," she said approvingly. She had no doubt that the festive display was all her doing.

She took one last yearning look at the diner but continued on her way home. She didn't want to see Luke yet. Well, she did, but she needed to have a plan. She wanted to go home and decide on the perfect outfit and the perfect thing to say to him. She didn't want to chance talking to him without knowing the script.

The Jeep turned down her street and despite her best efforts she felt her good mood start to slip. Every house looked like Clark Griswold lived there. Even the Lefand's on the corner had a blue and white neon menorah in their front window. She began to dread pulling into her dark, gloomy house.

It had seemed like a good idea not to Christmas-up the Crap Shack before she left. She figured it would be less sad to wait and put up the decorations with Rory when she returned. Now, seeing all of her neighbors' lights, she wasn't so sure.

She gasped and the Jeep fishtailed again as she stomped on the brake in surprise. Her multicolored Christmas lights were hanging in swags between her porch columns. She loved them dearly because in her mind they made the house look like a circus. In her front yard the five-foot inflatable snow globe was set up and perpetually blowing around the Styrofoam pieces of contained snow. She remembered how much Luke had ranted about it when she purchased it last year but she still believed it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen.

She threw the Jeep into the drive and bailed out into the snow. She left everything in the car and ran up the shoveled path to the front door.

"Rory!" she screamed as soon as she was inside. She shut the door with her hip and tore off her wet coat. "You stinker! Why didn't you tell me you weren't in London?"

She took another few seconds to peel off her soaked, ruined boots. Paul Anka trotted in to greet her.

"Hey! You even sprang your brother from the kennel! Way to show the Christmas spirit, Kid!" She patted him happily and followed him back into the living room. "Rory!" she yelled again.

She stopped short as she beheld a mammoth spruce set up in the designated Christmas tree corner. The top branch was scraping the ceiling. Lights were shining from every bough of the magnificent evergreen.

Movement from behind the tree caught her eye. Green-and-red plaid sheepishly emerged.

"It's not Rory," he said, shifting a string of lights from one hand to the other uncomfortably.

She couldn't remember ever feeling so shocked. Well, maybe that day she'd met the girl filling salt shakers in the diner … But she wasn't going to think about that now.

"Right, because Rory's all done with the plaid thing," she said. She realized in some far recess of her memory that the shirt he had on was one she'd given him last Christmas to try and give him some holiday flair.

He was looking at the tree and at the floor, barely glancing towards her. "I, uh, I thought you weren't getting home until tomorrow."

"I got done early. I changed flights."

"Oh." He nodded. "Good for you, then."

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "Luke, what are you doing?"

He put the lights down on the coffee table and wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked back at the tree and then he finally looked at her. "Well, I know how much you love Christmas. You love every kitschy, over-the-top thing about it. I drove by a couple of times to check on the house once I knew you were out of town and I just couldn't stand the thought of you coming home to this dark house. So, uh, I thought I'd come and put up your outside stuff. And then I realized that you didn't have any decorations inside either, so I thought I'd get you your tree. Then I thought, well, might as well get the lights down from the attic and make sure they work, you know? But I didn't put on any of the ornaments," he hurried to add. "I brought them down, but I didn't hang any of them. I know that's your favorite part, taking them out and looking at the ones Rory made when she was a kid. And those fancy ones your Aunt Hope sent you." He pointed over at some open boxes lying by the tree.

There was a long pause as she looked at everything this clearly nervous man standing in front of her had done. Ready or not, it was time for her to plunge in.

"Luke," she said, her voice calm but steady, "why did you do it?"

"I told you. I didn't want you comin' home to a dark house―"

"Not that," she interrupted. "I mean about April. You kicked me out of your life. Why did you do it?"

He took a step closer to her and then stopped, looking down at his feet with his hands at his hips. He exhaled forcefully. Finally he looked at her, his eyes searching over her face. "Would it be OK if I ― could I touch you?" he requested hesitantly.

Her head reared back in surprise. So not what she was expecting to hear from his mouth. Little tingles of excitement started to float through her stomach. She carefully angled her arms out from her sides. "Please," she said politely.

He was next to her in an instant. One arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her against him, while the hand from his other arm snaked under her snow-dampened hair, cradling the back of her head.

Blood roared through her ears in a rush as she tried not to melt completely into him. She held him to her as tightly as she could, feeling almost lightheaded from breathing him in. She raised her face and kissed his sweet, scruffy cheek before she could stop herself.

He moved the hand that had been massaging the back of her head to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek. His mouth headed for hers.

She turned her face and his kiss landed on her cheek instead. "Not so fast, Santa's Little Helper. You've got some talking to do first." Inwardly she cursed her newly rediscovered strength.

He buried his face in her hair and groaned. "Well, let's get comfortable. This might take a while," he warned.

He sank down to the floor right where he was. He fitted his back against the couch and then reached up his arms to her. He guided her down to his lap, where she sat sideways and leaned against his chest, her head tucked right underneath his chin. His arms were circled around her and she could feel each breath he took. For a moment she just sat there with her eyes closed, basking in a blissful sense of satisfaction.

"Where should I start?" he asked, sounding overwhelmed.

"Hang on. I need to do something first," Lorelai decided. She turned and snatched the black hat off his head and flung it like a Frisbee into the darkening recesses of the room.

He blinked at her, stunned. "Why'd you do that?" he asked bewildered

"I really hate that hat," she explained. She smoothed down his hair that had gotten ruffled and then surveyed her beautification process. "Much better," she decreed. She leaned against him again and got comfortable. "Start talking," she ordered.

"Easy for you to say," he griped. "But OK. Here's as good a place to start as any, I guess. Back in high school, did you know kids who were always stumblin' around in the dark, always complainin' that they needed to find themselves?" he began in his customary pre-rant grumble.

"Sure," she said as a teenaged Christopher sprang to mind.

He gave a derisive snort. "Well, I thought those kids were worthless. And it seems every book written for kids and every teen movie is the same thing. It's always about some loser running around tryin' to find themselves. It's like if they don't have some grand epiphany about what life's all about they can't figure out how to just live," he complained.

"OK," she chuckled agreeably, anxious to hear where this was leading.

"That wasn't me," he unnecessarily explained. "I always knew who I was. At least, I thought I did. I wasn't one of those touchy-feely, get in touch with your feelings guys, but I knew who I was. I knew what I believed and I knew who I loved and I knew what I wanted. I knew right from wrong. My parents ― especially my Dad ― had made sure of that. As far as I could tell, I had things all figured out and it wasn't hard."

She smiled at his take on life.

"That doesn't mean I didn't make mistakes," he readily admitted. "I made some monumental ones. Jess, for example. I wish all the time I could go back and do things over with him. And that last time Rachel came back. I should've never let her think things were the same when I knew they weren't. And then Nicole―" He bit that thought off abruptly.

"Go on," she encouraged, wanting to hear it all.

"I know why I made the mistake I made with Nicole," he said, slowly letting the words out. "She saw me, and you didn't, and I gave up and decided to take the easy way out. Only it was wrong, it wasn't easy, and both she and I ended up suffering for my mistake. It was my fault and she suffered for it."

"Oh, Luke," she whispered, leaning into him more. "I'm sorry."

He put a finger softly over her lips. "Don't," he said. "You've given me enough 'sorrys' for a lifetime."

"Still am," she insisted.

"But then I got you after all. It seemed like I learned my lessons and that life was going to give me everything I deserved for playing by the rules. I had the woman I loved, my business was doing OK, and everything was good."

"'For one moment, everything is good'" She quoted a favorite line from _While You Were Sleeping_ under her breath. "But it wasn't that moment, was it?"

"No. Suddenly…" She felt him sigh. "I found out I didn't know anything. My life turned upside down. Everything I believed got thrown out the window. Turns out I'd once gotten an old girlfriend pregnant and she didn't think enough of me to even tell me. For twelve years I'd had a kid walking around. Someone who was half me and I didn't even know it. Shouldn't you know those things? Shouldn't you feel them?" he loudly demanded of the universe in general.

"I don't know," she answered, since she was the only one around.

"Here I was, the type of guy who wanted to beat the Christophers and the Jimmy Marianos to a pulp for the way they neglected their kids. But hell, at least they knew they had 'em! Where does it put me on the list of slimeballs when I didn't even know?"

"That wasn't your fault. It was Anna's decision to keep you in the dark. If you'd known you would have been there every step of the way."

"But that's exactly my point, Lorelai! Here's this woman that I'd been with for awhile, someone who I had a freakin'_ relationship_ with, and she thought I wasn't even capable of knowing I had a kid, let alone helping to raise one! Can you imagine how that made me feel?"

"Anna was wrong," Lorelai said stubbornly. "She was wrong and her decision to keep April a secret was hateful. I don't care what her reasoning was about not telling you. It was horrible."

"When I found out about April …" Luke struggled for the right words. "Well, it destroyed my center. Turns out I didn't know who I was after all. How could I possibly be anything to you when I was nothing? How could I let you love me or depend on me or marry me when I didn't even know what kind of man I was? How could I?"

"That was my decision to make! Not yours! You robbed me of even getting a choice!" She took half a second to gulp down a breath and tried to sound less irate. "Really, Luke, did you think I was that shallow or cared so little about you that I'd stop loving you so easily? How could you think that I wouldn't love any child of yours?"

He put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently, trying to take some of the sting out of the words he planned to say. "It wasn't about you, Lorelai. I know some of it should have been, but it wasn't. I couldn't handle thinking about you too. Finding out about April blew me apart. There just wasn't enough left of me to worry about you. You've always been so strong, and I guess I thought you'd be OK while I tried to get straightened out. I know I'd always watched out for you and taken care of you, but I wasn't me. I was just stumbling around in the dark, trying to find myself, like some stupid teenager."

She closed her eyes and tried to listen to his words with her heart. She reached blindly for his hand and held it tightly. "Maybe that was how you felt, but I knew better. The one thing I was always the most sure of was you."

"I let you down," he said in low voice, letting his forehead rest against the side of her head. "I was struggling so hard that I just wasn't me. I let you flounder around on your own and I couldn't even let myself be concerned about how everything was affecting you because I was so lost. I'm sorry, Lorelai. Jeez, I'm so sorry."

She stroked the fingers of his hand while she thought about his words. Except for the lights on the tree, the room was darkening as night fell.

"I think it was sort of the same with me," she carefully admitted. "I think I forgot who I was ― who I was capable of being. I pushed with Rory and I lost her. I think I was scared that if I pushed with you, I'd lose you, too. Or maybe I was just scared to be myself because you weren't you." She felt tears pressing and dropped his hand so that she could cradle her face. "It was awful," she said brokenly.

"Hey." His voice was gentle. His arms came around her and cuddled her back against his chest. "I promise this is never going to happen again."

"No more love children popping out of the woodwork?" She teased, sounding like the Lorelai she used to be.

He snorted. "I can assure you of that." He brushed her hair back from her face. "I promise I'll never leave you alone like that again. I'm not confused anymore, Lorelai. I promise I won't let you down. And you need to promise me that you'll never let me get so off track again. I depend on you to call me on my crap. Don't ever let me take you for granted again. Do you promise?"

"I promise," she said quietly.

He pulled himself away from the couch so that he was more upright. He held her tightly and angled his face closer to hers. She could smell the peppermint on his breath as he nuzzled her face. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked lightly, but she could sense the heat behind the words.

"No," she said, and he slumped back in disappointment. "Because there's still … me. We haven't talked about me."

"What about you?"

She swallowed hard. "About what I did. About how I hurt you." She shook her head, and looked straight into the glowing lights on the tree because she couldn't stand to look at him. "Do you really think we can get past that? Do you really think you can forgive me?"

He sat up again and brought his mouth right next to her ear. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't already forgiven you."

For the first time real hope surged through her. His hands were crossed over her, holding her to him, and now she pressed her own hands over his, binding him to her. "Are you sure?"

"I know you so well, Lorelai. I understand how abandoned you felt when I ignored you. I understand now how much that hurt you, but I didn't realize how bad it was until you told me you thought I didn't love you anymore. That must have killed you. I've watched you for years and I know that when life knocks you down you try to find comfort somewhere. Usually you came to me. But this time I was the one who knocked you down. I even understand why you thought he was a good choice. I hate it, but I understand."

"I never meant―"

"I know." He held her tighter. "I know."

She couldn't stop the tears. She was still so ashamed. "I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry."

He folded her to him and rocked them back and forth. "I know. I know. And I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't hurt anymore, because it still does. But I love you and I want you back in my life and we are going to find a way to get through this."

The glow from her heart had dried up the tears. "You love me?"

"Of course I love you," he said, trying to sound exasperated, but that facade didn't last any time at all. "And you'd never do anything like that again, right?" He hid his face against her hair and his voice came out raw with pain. "Because I couldn't take it again, Lorelai. I think it'd kill me."

The guilt tried to strangle her again but she twisted around and put her arms tightly around him. "I promise, Luke. I think it'd kill me, too. Please believe me."

"I do," he choked out.

They sat wrapped around each other for several long, healing minutes. Lorelai finally pulled back and graced him with a beaming smile. Her lips were still quivering, but happiness was starting to shine out of her again. She reached out and carefully touched his face.

"So scruffy," she sighed happily.

He tried to read her eyes and then frowned at the floor beside them. "I don't want to rush you, but … do you think …" He grunted in frustration, apparently not able to land on the words he wanted. "I just need to know. Do you think there's any way you could ever love me again?"

Laughter bubbled out of her. "Oh, Luke." She collapsed against his chest, giggling. She could feel his diminishing patience so she pulled back to look at him. "Silly," she said fondly. Suddenly it was hard to get the words out around the lump in her throat. "What makes you think I ever stopped?"

His eyes lit up and she could see he was struggling just as much as she was to not break down. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked gruffly, obviously using up his last bit of control.

"No," she said and grabbed his face before he could snap. "Because I'm kissing you."

She'd surprised him but it only took him a split-second to catch up. He tipped her back, holding her securely in his strong arms as his face lowered to hers, joining her in knocking that supposedly awe-inspiring kiss from the _Princess Bride_ down a notch or two.

_Coming home_, Lorelai thought. The kiss was like coming home, yet it felt brand new. It was making rivulets of warm honey pool in her center, but at the same time it was soothing and comforting. He'd taken complete possession of her mouth, but he was also cautious, almost as if he was asking permission.

Once she was confident that he had her anchored in place and wasn't going to let her go, she let her hands start exploring over him. She touched his face and ran her fingers through his hair. She dipped down underneath his collar, rubbing her fingertips along the neck of his t-shirt. She flattened her hand and ran it all over his back, greeting each smooth plane and tensed muscle with a welcoming rub. She wouldn't have been able to describe his back with anything but a few generic words, but now that she was touching him she realized she would have known it was him with just one touch. She knew him by heart.

At first he seemed occupied with the reacquaintance of her mouth, but then he started touching her as well, holding her firmly with one arm so the other one could meander. He slid his hand over her arm, through her hair, down her back. His fingers stroked the few inches of bare skin under her jaw before the neck of her sweater covered it. His hand tracked downward and his thumb swept under the curve of her breast.

She gasped, not because she thought he shouldn't do it or because she didn't want him to do it. She just never dreamed it would be this easy.

Her startled breath broke the kiss and he drew back, his eyes dark and wide-open. His own breathing was heavy as he studied her face. He pulled her up so that her face was nestled against his.

"Missed you," he said, his tone telling her so much more than the simple words. "I've wanted to do that for months," he further admitted.

"Me too," she whispered back. She moved to kiss him again, still hungry, but this time he turned his face so the kiss landed on his cheek. She looked at him quizzically and he looked away, shrugging in what seemed to be an apology.

He settled back against the couch again and hugged her to him, apparently determined to be content with that for now. "Tell me about Utah," he suggested.

She stared over at the Christmas lights. Luke seemed to be trying to calm them down, and for now she was willing to let him set the pace. This was all new again and she had learned to trust him.

"Well, it snowed out there," she began. "But the snow isn't anything like what we're used to here. Some days the sun's shining so brightly, and the sky's so blue, but the top of the mountains are just hidden behind this curtain of snow."

"Sounds pretty," he said softly, curling a strand of her damp hair around his finger.

"Very pretty," she agreed, shivering with the thrill of having him there, and went on with her descriptions of Salt Lake while he held her close.

* * *

Eventually she realized he was trying to ease her off his lap. She had no idea how long they'd been sitting there on the floor, getting used to each other again.

"You need to go, don't you? You need to get back to the diner." She scrambled up, trying not to panic at the thought of him leaving her again.

He shook his head as he stood. "I should probably call Caesar, but no, I'm not going back to the diner tonight." He stretched and then moved towards the fireplace. "I laid a fire earlier for you. I'm thinking maybe that would be nice now."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

She shadowed his every move as he walked to the fireplace and used the lighter to catch the kindling. She leaned against his back, her arms loosely woven about his waist while he called the diner. She couldn't ignore the fear still tickling her heart that he'd slip away if she wasn't extra vigilant.

He smiled down at her as he shoved the phone into his jeans pocket. His arm came around her shoulders and he steered them back to the couch.

They settled against each other comfortably. His fingers stroked through her hair and urged her face upwards for several soft and tender kisses. Their arms entwined as they watched the fire start to blaze.

After a few quiet minutes Luke drew her right hand to a resting spot on his thigh. He traced over her fingers. "I've noticed you don't wear your ring anymore," he mentioned, sounding cautious.

"Oh. Um, well…" She made a face, trying to show him she knew she was crazy before she stuck a finger down the turtleneck of her deliberately-mockable holly-sprigged sweater. Her finger caught the hidden chain she'd worn for the past month and fished out the ring for him to see.

"It didn't feel right to have it out there, sort of flaunting it anymore," she tried to explain. "But at the same time, it really didn't feel right not wearing it, either. So this was sort of a compromise."

He took the ring between his fingers and looked it over critically. "If you're wearing it because you like it or because it still has some nice memories, that's fine, but I don't want you wearing it as some sort of punishment. That's all over. Do you understand?"

She nodded, watching the ring sparkle as he moved it. "April asked me if I was wearing it because I still loved you and wanted you back. I freaked out, of course," she admitted easily to him now. "I was so horrified, wondering if that's what you and everyone else thought." She held her breath as she bravely brushed her fingers against his face, swallowing hard when she watched his eyes close at her touch. "It took me until yesterday to realize that was the truth. I _do_ love you and I _do_ want you back. That is one perceptive kid you've got there," she said, trying to change her heartfelt tone into something more teasing.

Luke smiled gently. He dropped the ring, letting it dangle from the chain and come to rest against her. "Perceptive and persistent," he commented dryly and then kissed her hand where the ring had been for so long.

Although she was touched, Lorelai had to stifle a yawn without success. "Sorry," she said self-consciously.

"It's OK. You've watched me fall asleep on the couch plenty of times." He pushed her forward slightly so that he could stretch out behind her. "Come'ere," he offered, holding out his arm.

Eagerly she fitted herself on the couch in front of him, letting every bone and muscle relax into the heaven of his embrace. "Umm," she sighed. For a moment she nearly drifted off but then other topics popped into her head.

"Speaking of April," she began boldly. "I'm going to get to see her now, right?" Her bravado and her voice had faded by the end of the question.

Luke's mouth went tight as he looked down at her. "Of course you are," he said quickly. "April'd have my head if she didn't get to see you. She thinks the world of you, you know," he added, his voice gruff as he looked away from her eyes.

Lorelai nodded uncomfortably. "And that's… I mean, that's OK with you? That she likes me?"

His jaw clenched as he searched for words. "When I said that to you, that was me being a jerk. I was scared and unsure and… a jerk. I didn't understand then, but that's still no excuse. Now I know that she's my daughter. I mean, I feel that, you know? I understand that there's nothing that'll take that feeling away. It's just like with you and Rory. Rory'd stand by you no matter what, because she's your daughter, and now I understand what that's like. I know no matter how much April gets attached to you, I'm her dad and that won't change. I'm glad April already loves you. That'll make being a family together that much easier."

She took a deep breath and felt her mouth trembling. "Those are some awfully pretty words you're spouting there, Mister."

"Well then, let's try some more." He propped up his head on his hand so he could look down at her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you enough that I loved you."

"I wasn't very good at that either," she protested.

"But you got to the point where you really didn't know," he said, sounding angry at himself. "I feel terrible about that. That's never going to happen again. I never want you to doubt me again."

"I believe you," she said and pulled him down for a kiss to seal her words.

He kept an arm wrapped around her as he laid his head on her shoulder. "I think the reason I didn't say it enough was because of your name."

"My name?" she laughed. She couldn't stop touching him, still amazed that he was pressed up beside her. She ran her hand through his hair, over his stubbled cheeks, down his flannel-swathed arm.

"Your name," he admitted. "To me, every time I said 'Lorelai' I heard 'love' in my head. They were linked together in my mind. I'd say 'Lorelai' but I heard … 'love.'"

"Every time," she teased, not sure how seriously to take this.

"Every time," he said firmly. "Lorelai," he said softly next to her ear. He moved his face over hers. "Love," he breathed out, the word ending as his lips pressed against hers.

Lorelai gasped as he pulled away. "Oh, I think I like that."

"Then we'll make it a thing. You'll know that every time I say 'Lorelai' I mean 'love.'" He kissed her again.

"Do I get a kiss every time, too?" she asked, her eyes still closed after the last one.

"Depends on how many people are around." His voice was so warm and silky. "Lorelai," he said again, and she realized that he did have a habit of drawing out the last syllable of her name. Almost as if he was thinking about adding another word to it.

"Mmm," she sighed, content.

In her mind she was thinking about how Luke was right next to her, warm and real and telling her he loved her. Her brain was calculating how to climb up on top of him and _really_ get reacquainted. Her body, unfortunately, was remembering how early she'd gotten up, her long treks through airports, and the tension-filled drive home. She snuggled closer against him, breathing in the scent of French fries and fabric softener that she'd never really forgotten.

She was still aware when he pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around them. She smiled, remembering the day she'd come home and tried to hide underneath it.

And that was the last thought she had for several hours.

* * *

When Lorelai's eyes opened next it was to a dark, cold room. The fireplace held only a few still-glowing embers. The Christmas tree had apparently been put on a timer and its black bulk in the corner blocked even the faint light that might have come in through the window. Her back was warm where she was pressed up against him, but the rest of her was chilled, especially her feet encased in the socks still damp from her epic snow battle.

She groaned as she sat up, taking the afghan with her. Luke made noises of protest, his arms flailing for the cover.

She stood up, feeling a little wobbly. "Come on," she said, pulling at him.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse and full of complaint, but he moved into a sitting position, his head leaning against the back of the couch, his eyes closed in objection.

"Come on," she ordered again, pulling harder at his arms.

"Where?" he asked, still annoyed as he stood.

"Upstairs." She tried to think of all of the reasons why while she tottered off towards her goal. "Bed. Blankets. Comforters. Electric mattress pad."

She was surprised to hear the couch creak when he plopped down on it again. "I'm not sleepin' with you," he announced.

"Oh, for ―" She pulled the afghan tighter around her and came back to the couch. "Luke, you've _been_ sleeping with me!" she pointed out, cold and irritated.

She could barely make out his features but his voice sounded firm. "I mean I'm not doing anything but sleepin' with you," he clarified.

"I'm too tired and too cold to debate this with you now, so just come on," she insisted, tabling all of the arguments rolling through her head. Warmth first, discussion later. She put all of her strength into tugging at his arm and he finally stood up and followed her with minimal grumbling.

Halfway up the stairs his words kicked in.

"Whatd'ya mean, you're not sleepin' with me?" she demanded, turning around and giving a push to his chest.

He grabbed the banister to keep his footing. "Do we have to do this now?"

"Yes! Yes, I think we do!"

"I've spent a lot of time thinking about all the stuff we did wrong, and I think sleepin' together as fast as we did was one of our first mistakes."

She gulped. "You didn't like our first night together?" Her voice was squeaky with disbelief.

"Of course I liked it! But we shouldn't have done it. We should've waited. We went straight from being friends to bein' …you know, together. Maybe if we would've waited, had some transition time, it would've been better. Maybe we wouldn't have had all of the problems if we'd discussed some things first."

"But ― but the horoscope!" she sputtered.

"What about it?"

"You showed me the horoscope!"

"Because I wanted you to understand that it wasn't some casual thing for me," he explained.

She pulled her arm back to clobber him again, but apparently there was enough light for him to see her intention and he grabbed her arm. "What is wrong with you?" he exploded, no longer sounding half-asleep.

"Why would you show me the horoscope if you didn't want to get me into bed? Do you not understand the power that thing wielded? There's not a woman on the planet who wouldn't have tumbled into bed with you after that! _Mother Teresa_ would have slept with you!"

"Well, thanks for that visual," he muttered. "The horoscope was not a ploy to get you into bed."

"I know," she grumbled. "But it was so sweet, and so… so you…" She put her hands against his chest, softly this time. "How could I resist?"

He drew her to him, rubbing his hands over her back as he held her. "But this time we're going to. We're going to take our time and figure things out. We're going to do this right."

"We didn't do it right before?" she teased.

He sighed, pushing her away. "Let's just go to bed."

"That's what I've been saying!"

They made it the rest of the way upstairs and into the bedroom. While Luke took his turn in the bathroom Lorelai found some flannel pajamas and some fuzzy socks to prevent him from complaining about her ice cube toes. They wasted no time in hopping into bed, the temperature helping to diffuse what might have been an otherwise awkward situation. They automatically curled into their normal sleep positions: Luke on his side with Lorelai pressed up against his back. He tucked her hand under his where it rested on his chest and she swallowed back a squee of happiness as she rubbed her face against his t-shirt.

She was starting to drift off into dreamworld when she felt Luke struggling to look over his shoulder back at her. "Wait. Did you say you have an electric mattress pad?"

For some reason his question made her want to giggle like crazy, but she fought the urge. "Yeah. I had to do something since you weren't here to keep me warm."

"Oh." She felt him running his toes against the warm sheets. "Well, it's nice."

"Yes. It's very nice," she agreed and snuggled back against him, sighing in comfort.

She fell into a contented sleep, feeling that things were finally _almost_ back to where they were supposed to be.

* * *

In that drowsy world of not-quite-awake, Lorelai could tell instantly that it had snowed. The walls in her room always took on a particular silvery light when the ground was covered in snow. The room was still dark in this very early hour of the morning but her walls had already begun to glimmer from the snowlight.

She soon realized that she wasn't alone, and in the nanosecond that came next she remembered Luke and their reunion the night before. She turned her head, her heart beating fast. She held her breath, worried he'd disappear into a cloud of regret if she looked too quickly.

His eyes were already open. He was watching her. "Hello, Pretty Girl," he whispered, his voice husky.

Her heart flipped, quivered, and melted ― in that order. She'd buried deep in her memory how he used to call her that during their more intimate moments.

"Hi," she whispered back, trying to act calmly. "Have you been awake long?"

"Not too long," he judged. He trailed a finger lazily up the side of her face and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Went downstairs. Let Paul Anka out. Closed the damper on the fireplace."

"Thanks," she said, striving for politeness as her body twisted itself up in urgent need.

He nodded and propped himself up on an elbow. "Lorelai," he began, once again drawing out that last syllable of her name, and the parts of her body that had not already turned to liquid went squishy. He carefully pushed one of his long, muscular legs between hers and moved himself up above her. He slowly began to nibble along the side of her face. "I may have lied to you last night," he admitted between tastings.

"Oh?" She was going to die, she knew it. Her heart was pounding too much. She couldn't get any air into her lungs. The heat collecting inside her body was going to burst into flame at any moment. "What did you lie about?"

"About not making love to you." He kissed her lips quickly, over and over, not giving her a chance to latch on. His questing hand found the edge of her shirt and slipped underneath, making the most delicious shivers run across her skin. The shivers met the heat that had been pooling inside and made her explode into action.

"I forgive you," she said, attempting to yank his shirt off over his head without any finesse at all.

He pushed up to his knees, helping her with the shirt. "I've missed you too much. I don't want to miss you anymore." He pulled her up by her shoulders, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, too, before pressing her back down on the bed.

The sensation of his skin against hers brought everything back to her. She knew how to touch him. She knew how she wanted to be touched. Her body writhed against him, frenzied, knowing she'd never be able to get enough of the feel of him.

He started kissing her then, deeply, and she responded, losing herself in the play of their mouths and tongues, once again welcoming back this most intimate form of communication. He shifted slightly and moved his chest away from her so his hand could curl around her breast. His thumb brushed over the peak and she whimpered, once again sure that she'd go crazy before she got what she wanted. She pushed her breast deeper into his hand, letting him know how much she wanted his touch on her body.

It had been too long. Slowing down to a more romantic pace was not an option. They needed to be together in every sense of the word. There would be time later for seduction and teasing and long, smoldering looks. Today there was only the unassailable need to be joined to one another again.

"I've missed you too," she breathed out during one of the few times her mouth was free. Whatever reserve that had existed between them was gone. There was just skin and need and them. "Oh, Luke. So much." She wrapped her legs around him and pushed with her heel, urging him to find his way back to her.

He entered her and muffled a cry by burying his face into her neck, trying to regain control.

She didn't want control. She moved herself against him, relishing every bit of his body pressed into hers. "So good," she muttered breathlessly. She rambled on, as was her habit. "Oh God, Luke, this feels so good. You feel so good. I can't remember the last time―"

She froze. Her body shut down. Because she remembered. She remembered exactly when the last time was. She remembered exactly who she was with.

Her lungs went into a spasm, desperate for air. She covered her face with her arms, not able to stand having him see her. She tried to roll her body away from him.

"Lorelai. Listen to me." She heard his voice, and it made her even more ashamed. She whimpered in distress as she thrashed from side to side, her eyes shut tight against the mistakes of her past.

"Lorelai. Open your eyes. You need to look at me. Look at me, Lorelai!"

His voice was sharp and commanding and she did what he asked. She gasped for air and opened her eyes. His face was right above hers, agonized and determined and strong and loving her. She put her hand against his cheek, needing to touch him, and he quickly turned his head enough to kiss her palm.

"Listen to me. He's not here. There's nobody here but you and me. There's not ever going to be anybody here but you and me, right?"

She listened and swallowed down some wild tears. After a moment she managed to nod.

"That's what we're promising each other, right? From here on, we're pledged to each other only. That's what we talked about all last night, isn't it?"

She was starting to regain her sense of self from the dark abyss she'd nearly tumbled down. Her hands griped his shoulders, confirming that he was still here. He wasn't leaving and he was calm and strong, and her panic started to subside.

"Pledged?" she questioned, with a raised eyebrow. She was still shaking, in spite of the mocking tone she was trying to achieve.

He carefully disentangled himself from her and lay down next to her. He pulled her over to his chest, holding her to him, enveloping her in his arms. He did nothing but hold her for several calming moments, stroking her hair.

"When I was a kid, there was a summer when it seemed like I got dragged to a wedding every other weekend." His voice was low and sweet and laced with a throbbing intensity from their aborted tryst. "This was a long time before Reverend Skinner. The guy who was the minister then always had the couple say the same vows. They'd promise to love and honor in sickness and in health and all of that stuff, but the one thing that always stuck in my head was that he'd have them repeat 'With my body, I thee worship.' Have you ever heard that before?"

"I think so," she said, lightly running her hand over his chest as she listened to him.

He brought her hand up to his face and kissed it again. "It probably stuck in my head because I figured out it had something to do with sex," he admitted. He rolled to his side, looking down at her, and she could see the smile on his face. He reached out and softly ran his fingers through her hair. "It wasn't until I was with you, Lorelai, that I understood how much more it meant than just sex. It means that I'm giving you my body. It means that I love you so much that you're the only one I'll ever do this with. It means that I'm promising you with everything I've got ― my body, my heart, everything I own ― that this bond we have together is not going to be broken. It means that every time we make love we need to remember that we belong only to each other."

She swallowed hard and pushed her face into the crook of his arm, letting all of those soothing words from her normally verbally reserved guy to burrow into her heart.

"Are you going to be OK?" he asked after a lengthy bout of silence.

She nodded and found the courage to lean back enough to look at him. "Are you?"

His jaw tensed for a moment and then he looked at her levelly. "I've made my peace with this. I need to know that you have, too."

She let out a lingering sigh, releasing the regrets with it. "I think I have."

"Good. That's good." His hands reached for her and he held her carefully, one hand angling around to smooth her hair. "So, um, could we, uh, try this again?"

A huge smile broke out on her face. She could hear the hopefulness in his words as well as a note of desperation. She'd forgotten what it was like to feel this happy. "Yeah, let's try it again. Without the oops this time."

"Definitely without the oops," he agreed wryly.

He lowered his head and she met his lips tentatively, still apprehensive about how her body might betray her. But then they were pressed together and their whole history flooded through her. She remembered how much she wanted him to kiss her years ago, back when they were picking out the new colors to paint the diner. She remembered how frustrated she was with him on the night they broke the bells because she didn't dare tell him then why she so desperately cared. The memory of their first night together ― best first date ever ― pushed away any doubts still troubling her. Luke was right. He was so right. He was hers and she was his and nothing was going to change that. He was getting everything she had. Her heart was his. Her body was his. From this point on that would never change.

She pulled him to her and opened herself to him. She loved him deeply and without one bit of reservation. For the first time she lavished him with not only her body but her heart as well.

They moved together and everything was brand new. And then they came together and it was like they'd been joined as one since the beginning of time. Their bodies found the rhythm in their promises and bound them together in a way that words couldn't replicate. When they reached their limits and the love exploded through them it was like a guarantee that nothing in heaven or earth could separate them.

They came down slowly, neither willing to let go of their new-found connection.

"That was― intense," Lorelai observed, still winded but needing to talk about what they'd just experienced. 'Intense' wasn't exactly the proper description but her mental Thesaurus was off-line at the moment.

"No kidding," Luke agreed, breathing hard against her side. He raised his head enough to give her a heartfelt kiss.

"So, uh, are we married now?" Lorelai was only half-joking. She couldn't forget the way they'd felt so united. She could still feel the connection to him pulsing through her veins.

He looked at her again and grinned. "I think Reverend Skinner would have to be here for that. And there'd probably have to be some paperwork, I guess."

She nodded, almost able to speak without panting. "And that would be awkward."

"That would be awkward indeed." He nuzzled her neck, finding a spot he seemed to remember next to her collarbone. "What with the nakedness and all."

"Oh, that. Right." Her eyes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the sensations still cascading through her. "When do you need to be at the diner?" she asked, attempting to steel herself for when he'd have to leave her.

"Caesar and Lane are going to keep it open until after lunch," he told her. "Then we're closed until after Christmas."

"Really?" She couldn't believe what she'd heard. She struggled up onto an elbow to stare at him. "You never close for holidays!"

He shrugged at her lazily; the smile on his face showing that he loved her response. "Things change," he told her. "I've got better things to do today."

"Oh. Better things, huh?" She chuckled as she fitted herself next to him and smiled when his arm tucked around her. "Good Christmas." She sighed, her eyes closing again.

"Great Christmas," he lovingly corrected.

They cuddled up and took turns dozing off against each other. When they finally got out of bed and started looking for clothes the sun was reflecting off the snow and the room was bright.

Downstairs Lorelai got another surprise. Luke had restocked her refrigerator and cupboards.

"Or was it Santa?" she asked, eying him suspiciously.

"I don't know," he said laconically. "Have you been a good girl?"

"You'd have to answer that," she pointed out but the smile on her face was confident.

He was already mixing up pancake batter and paid her no mind, but she did notice his smile was remarkably similar to the one she remembered from the house-hunting day. She watched as he started a pot of coffee and she told him her theory about what made his coffee so special.

"I like that," he said. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her to him for a quick kiss. "I like the idea that there are some things you can only get from me."

"Swooning now," Lorelai groaned, pressing her face against his neck.

He laughed and set her aside, hurrying back to the stove to flip the pancakes.

After they ate they went into the living room and Lorelai eagerly sat down by one of the opened ornament boxes. She started pulling out tissue-wrapped pieces of art and macaroni-encrusted construction paper stars, babbling stories about each. Luke took them carefully from her hands and started to place them on the tree.

When that box was empty she grabbed the next one. It was filled with other Christmas paraphernalia, including their stockings. She'd been sitting awkwardly on her legs and now she hobbled a little as she stiffly made her way over to the fireplace.

She put her stocking in the center, Rory's to the right, and Luke's to the left. She ran her finger over the miniature tool belt she'd stitched to the top of his. She tried not to think of how hard it would have been to open the box and see his stocking if he hadn't been there with her.

"Looks good." His arms circled around her, pulling her back against him. "I forgot you made that for me last year."

"Oh, crap!" She pulled away and turned to face him. "I don't have anything to put in it!" She looked around the room frantically. "I need to go shopping! Like, now!"

He grinned. "You're not going anywhere today," he said, reaching for her. "Unless you have to go to work. Do you?"

"No. I wasn't supposed to even get back until today." Every other possible plan for the day disappeared as he pulled her back against him.

"Then we'll just do Christmas when Rory gets back." His hand found a way under sweater. "Agreed?" He nosed aside her hair and kissed her neck.

"Agreed." She'd probably agree to eat lima beans if it meant his hand stayed right where it was.

"Besides, there's nothing else I need," he added unselfishly.

"Nothing?" She quirked an eyebrow as she rubbed her body delicately over his. "Huh. I thought maybe there was _something_ you needed."

"Maybe there is at that," he muttered, his eyes sliding closed and his breath coming faster. His fingers tightened around her.

"Maybe we should go back to bed and look for it," she suggested and led him over to the stairs.

* * *

They had dozed off again but Luke's pants woke them up.

He groaned as he stretched his arm to the floor to reach them. He fished the phone out of the pocket and then his eyes widened in concern as he read the number showing on the display.

"Rory!" he barked out in alarm.

"Rory?" Lorelai was equally as apprehensive. She struggled up to her knees.

"Are you OK? What's wrong?" Luke shouted into the phone.

The worry lines relaxed between his eyes and he nodded reassuringly at Lorelai.

"Speaker! Speaker!" she implored him. He ignored her so she leaned over and pushed the button herself, falling back onto the bed as she heard Rory's voice.

"― hate to ask you, because I know you guys have been sort of apart lately, but I'm so worried that Mom's going to come home and then just lock herself up in the house all alone. She's been sort of struggling lately. Grandma and Grandpa are out of town, and Sookie's already got a full house with Jackson's family, and I'm afraid she won't let Babette know she's alone. So I know this is all kinds of awkward, but do you think that maybe you could make sure she gets some Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

"I'll feed her," Luke agreed quickly. He smiled smugly at Lorelai.

"You will? Oh, thank you so much, Luke! I hate being so far away from her."

"Wow. So I guess she's really in bad shape, huh?" Luke asked, putting as much concern into his voice as possible.

Rory paused. "Well, not really in bad shape. I just don't want her to be all alone on Christmas."

"I feel terrible. I guess she must really be pining over me," he observed. He moved his legs quickly as Lorelai aimed a kick at him.

Even from across an ocean Rory was exceedingly perceptive, a trait she shared with April. "She's right there with you, isn't she?" Rory said accusingly.

"Hey, Kid!" Lorelai called out. "How are things in London Town?" She used her best faux British accent.

"Fine," Rory answered dutifully. "Are you at the diner?" she asked slowly.

Lorelai bit her lip as she searched Luke's face, trying to determine what was the right answer. "No, Rory, I'm not at the diner."

There was another long pause. "So… I guess… that means…"

"Luke's here at the house," Lorelai admitted.

"Oh." They could almost hear the gears shifting in her head as she worked through to the conclusion. "So… does that mean the two of you have reached some sort of understanding?"

"Yes," Luke said at once.

"We understand we love each other," Lorelai clarified further. Then her eyes flew to Luke. "Right?" she asked, suddenly not as sure.

"Right," he chimed in at once. "We do." The words were directed at Lorelai and she smiled back.

They heard Rory's gusty sigh of relief. "Finally."

"Yeah. Finally." Lorelai scooted over and kissed his shoulder.

"You're not doing anything disgusting, are you?" Rory asked, deeply suspicious.

"Of course not!" Lorelai winked at Luke while pulling the sheet up over herself. "Who, us?"

"Luke, don't let her corrupt you," Rory pleaded.

"Might be too late," Luke replied.

"Listen, I've got to go. Logan's waiting on me," Rory said. "I'll call you again tomorrow, I promise. But I'm so happy for you. I guess this is going to be a really good Christmas for us after all, isn't it?"

After saying their goodbyes Luke tossed the phone onto the bedside table. Lorelai started to get out of bed but he pulled her back. He pinned down her arms over her head and eased himself on top of her.

"So tomorrow's Christmas," Lorelai began conversationally, attempting to ignore his romantic overture.

"Yep," Luke agreed, just as casually. His teeth toyed with her earlobe.

"And you'll be here?" That came out as a question despite her best efforts.

"Right here," he said, apparently deciding he really liked the skin right under her jaw.

"And then there's New Year's." She waited but he didn't respond. "Do you think you'll be here for New Year's?"

"There's a very good chance."

"Oh? Well, that's great. Glad to hear it." She nodded as much as possible with him on top of her the way he was. "What do you think about Valentine's Day?"

He sighed and rose up more on his elbows. "Lorelai, this next part is all up to you. I'm willing to go as fast or as slow as you want me to, but it's your decision." She started to tease him about his choice of words but he cut her off.

"Have you ever thought that I might know exactly what I'm saying? Have you ever thought that after all of these years I might in fact _carefully_ choose the words I say around you?"

"Occasionally," she admitted with a giggle, squirming under him.

He shifted his weight a little, still careful not to crush her. "If you want me to move in here today, I will. If you want me to put that ring back on your finger, I'll do that right now. If you want to drive to Maryland as soon as Rory gets home, that's fine with me."

"Maryland," she repeated, feeling somewhat dizzy.

He frowned slightly, watching her eyes. "And if you want to ease back into things more, maybe just date for awhile until we get our feet back under us again, I'm OK with that, too. You just say the word. Whatever makes you happy is what we'll do."

She was really having trouble catching her breath, and it didn't have anything to do with the naked hunk of man lying on her chest. At last she got some words to wobble out of her mouth. "I think I want to take it kind of slow."

He tensed and she saw disappointment flit over his face. "That's fine," he said. He took a moment to shore up his feelings. He bent down, hiding his expression as he kissed her cheek gently. "We'll go slow."

Her fingers played with the curls on the back of his neck. "I'll need at least an hour," she whispered into his ear.

His head jerked up as he frowned down at her. "An hour for what?"

"To clean out the closet," she said. "I need to make room for your stuff. I'd like to think I could do it in just half an hour, but realistically I probably need at least an hour. So can you wait an hour before you move in?"

He lowered himself, letting her take more of his weight for a moment as he kissed her. Then he all but leaped out of bed and grabbed his clothes. "As long as I don't get waylaid in the diner, an hour should be fine."

She rolled over, watching him get dressed in what looked like record time. "About the Maryland thing. Would it be OK if we waited until Reverend Skinner could do it?"

He stopped in the middle of buttoning his shirt to look over at her. "Sure," he said.

She was nodding thoughtfully. She was trying to pretend this was just one of their normal conversations again, but her heart was ready to burst open. "Do you think maybe he could find those vows you remember from his predecessor? I think― I know I'd like to say those."

His hands fell limply to his sides as he stared down at the floor. She saw his shoulders rise as he took a deep breath. And then he was back beside her, kneeling down so his face was looking into hers, his eyes suspiciously wet.

"I'd like that too," he said simply. His kiss told her the rest of the story.

He pointed at the closet as he hurried to the door. "I don't need half. Just do whatever you can in 45 minutes." He quickly tucked in his shirttail. "I'll be back soon, Lorelai." He grinned at her before he disappeared from the doorway.

"Love you too," she whispered to herself, hearing his love wrapped around her name. She'd make sure to tell him when he got back. Maybe with some visual aids to make sure he got the point.

She rolled over onto her back and listened as he clattered down the stairs. The door slammed. Her brow wrinkled while she studied the cracks in the ceiling and made a mental note to ask Luke about them. That thought made her smile peacefully. After all, it was his house now, too.

With a groan she pushed herself out of bed and found her clothes. Then she walked over to the extra-big closet and flung open the doors. Her eyes sparkled as she ruthlessly heaved out at least half of her wardrobe.

She wanted to make sure there was plenty of room for those flannel shirts she'd missed so much.

* * *

"Do you see her?" April asked worriedly.

"Lorelai, where did Rory say she'd met us?" Emily asked, sounding every bit as worried as April.

Lorelai shrugged. "We didn't really set a meeting place."

"Honestly, Lorelai! What were you thinking?" Emily only had to stomp her foot to look like a toddler ready to throw a fit. "There's such a crowd here! We'll never find her!"

Lorelai knew there was a time in the not-too-distant past where she would have tossed a disrespectful comment at her mother, starting both of them off down the path of nastiness and hurt feelings. But not today. Today was too perfect. The sun was warm, the breeze was light, her baby was graduating from Yale, and a handsome man was holding her arm. Life was very, very good.

Plus, she wasn't worried about Rory finding them. Her daughter would always find her. Just like Luke's daughter had found him.

"What if we don't see her in time?" April sounded truly nervous, nothing at all like the confident girl she normally was. Her head turned frantically from side to side.

"Allow me." Richard put his hand on his wife's shoulder and stood up on tip-toe, giving his already tall frame some more viewing room. "Ah, there she is! Rory!" He grabbed the wide-brimmed red summer hat from off Emily's head and waved it back and forth. "There. She sees us now," he informed them, trying to put the hat back on the fuming woman next to him.

Luke gave his father-in-law a look that mixed awe with disbelief.

Emily fished a mirror from her bag and tried to repair the damage, glaring at Richard at the same time.

Rory ran up to them. Her graduation gown was hanging open and the mortarboard was clutched in her hands. "You're here!" She laughed as April and her grandmother rushed up to her, both talking at once.

Lorelai hung back, content for once to watch. She didn't need to talk to Rory today. They both knew what this day meant to them.

As if she could read her thoughts, Rory's eyes found hers. She was smiling and laughing at April's chatter and Emily's advice, but her heart was speaking only to her mother.

April broke away and dashed to Luke. She rifled through his suit pocket until she found the jewelry box, and then she rushed back over to Rory.

"Lean down," she requested. As Rory bent her neck, holding up her hair, April fastened the pearls around her. "I was so worried we wouldn't find you, and then you wouldn't get to wear them."

Rory straightened up, her hand pulling on the pearls to settle them into place. She fluffed her hair and posed. "Well, what do you think?" she asked shyly.

"Oh, my, those are lovely," Emily said. Lorelai wished she didn't sound quite so shocked, but again, she let it slide.

"They belonged to Luke's mother," Rory told her. Her eyes flashed to him with love.

"They're very pretty, Luke. Nicely matched," Emily further complimented him.

"She only wore them on special occasions," Luke reminisced.

"Like today." Lorelai squeezed his arm and he smiled at her in agreement.

Rory hurried over to them. "Thank you," she said, hugging her stepfather.

Luke hugged her back without reservation. "They look perfect on you." He took an extra moment to look at her. "My mother sure would have loved you."

Rory pointed at him sternly. "Don't you dare make me cry."

"Nah, that's my job." Lorelai grinned at her girl.

"Actually…" Rory sighed and stepped a little closer to them. "I have something that might make both of you cry."

"Is Logan bugging you?" Lorelai asked sharply, looking around. Logan's surprise proposal had them all a little on edge.

"No, it's not Logan. I mean, he's here somewhere, and I'm sure he'll want me to tell him my answer― and don't ask me what it is, because I'm still mulling ― but that's not it," she rambled on nervously. "I wanted you to know that Dad's here. He stopped by my apartment this morning."

Lorelai could feel the uneasiness that drifted over both her and Luke, but then she leaned against him and he lightly grasped her elbow and they were OK again.

"Does he have G.G. with him?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"No. It's just him," Rory said.

Luke glanced at Lorelai and she nodded. "Tell him he's welcome to come to your party if he wants," he said.

Rory's mouth dropped open as she stared at Luke. "Really?" she asked, not believing her ears. Her laugh was from shock. "You're a good man, Luke Danes."

Luke shrugged. "He's your dad, Rory. He should be here today." He looked uncomfortable while their faces beamed at him in admiration. "Plus, I got the girl," he added lightly. "I can afford to be magnanimous."

"Text him and let him know it's OK," Lorelai instructed her.

Rory nodded distractedly. "They're starting to line up. I've got to go."

Everyone got a quick hug before she ran off to join her graduating class, trying to zip up her gown as she went.

The Gilmore-Danes-Nardini contingent surged over to the seating area and shuffled past a lot of well-dressed knees to their seats. Richard and Emily stopped numerous times to say hello to acquaintances.

They settled into the folding chairs and Emily fussed with her hat some more.

"Stop." Richard grabbed her hands. "You look lovely, my dear."

"You're just saying that so I'll stop being annoyed at you for tearing it off my head," Emily told him, still snippy.

"Emily, you look as beautiful as you did the first day I laid eyes on you. After the ceremony we should stroll over and find the spot where you first captured my heart," Richard suggested gallantly.

Emily tried to look agitated, but everyone could see the pleased smirk forming on her mouth. Luke gave Richard another nod of admiration.

"Are you taking notes?" Lorelai whispered to him.

"Yep," he said at once. "Need all the help I can get."

"Hardly," Lorelai scoffed. "You could give Dad lessons."

Luke leaned over, pretending to look at the building closest to them, but it was really so his mouth could press a kiss against her hair. "They don't need to know that, Lorelai," he whispered, putting his special emphasis on her name.

Her heart stuttered with desire and she opened the program, trying to estimate how long they were going to have to sit there.

Too long. There was music. Then careful, non-denominational prayers. Then a poem. More music. A speaker who talked way too long. Then, finally, the reading began of the graduates' names.

She remembered how she could barely see through the proud tears in her eyes when Rory graduated from Chilton. Today she started blinking rapidly as soon as they started on the names beginning with 'G.' Today she wanted to be ready.

"Lorelai Leigh Gilmore."

They all clapped and cheered. Even Emily and Richard clapped without their normal reserve. From somewhere off to the side she heard another cheer. _Christopher_, she realized, and the thought didn't fill her with dread. Luke was right. Rory's dad needed to share this day with her.

She caught Rory's eye as she passed down the aisle and she stuck out her tongue. Rory did the same.

"Lorelai, honestly." Emily sighed.

She eased herself up against her husband, letting his strength cushion her comfortably. She grinned over at April who was leaning against Luke's other side, fascinated by all of the pomp and circumstance in this place she revered just as much as her stepsister did.

Lorelai put her hand on his knee and the light played through the facets in the diamond in her wedding band. It was the same diamond, although they'd found a new setting for it and several smaller diamonds had joined it for company. It seemed the perfect blend of old memories and their new life.

"Well," she whispered to him, "one down." She smiled at him, that special I-love-you-so-much-it-hurts smile she smiled only at him.

His hand covered hers while his other arm squeezed her shoulder. He nuzzled her hair. "One to go," he added before nodding towards April.

"Actually," she began. Her smile slid towards that mischievous, boy-do-I-have-a-surprise-for-you one that usually made him sweat. She picked up his hand and moved it to her stomach, pressing it tightly against her pretty summer dress. "You'd better make that two," she advised him.

She felt him freeze. Then he turned in his seat to stare at her, dislodging April. "You're sure?" he asked, forgetting to whisper.

She nodded. "That's what all of the extra time was in the bathroom this morning."

She watched his mouth open and shut helplessly as he tried to take in what she'd just told him. She watched as delight filled his eyes and she could sense that her normally levelheaded husband was about to embarrass himself right here in front of his daughter, her parents, and the multitude of upper crust Yale alumni. She loved him too much to allow him to be humiliated that way.

So she grabbed him and kissed him instead.

"Lorelai, honestly," she heard her mother say.

She didn't care. It was a perfect day, and she didn't care what anyone else thought of her. The only opinion she cared about belonged to the man she was kissing. The man that she loved so much. The man who had loved her and had waited for her and had forgiven her and had made room in his life for her forever.

What more could she possibly want?

* * *

_"Congratulations," the doctor said, beaming down at them. "It's a girl."_


End file.
